


Under the Sea

by pastelwitchling



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Malex, Past Malex, Violence, forlex, forlex merman au, mermaid, merman, mostly rated e for sexual moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pastelwitchling/pseuds/pastelwitchling
Summary: Alex Manes has been terrified of the water ever since his mother had drowned. This phobia has endangered his engagement to the man he loves, and so he must overcome it as quickly as possible.To do so, Alex agrees to accompany his delusional father on a voyage out to sea, against the wishes of his brother, Gregory, and his sister-in-law, Isobel.Alex does not expect this venture to change his life so drastically, nor does he expect the creature that saves him . . .
Relationships: Forrest Long & Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Isobel Evans & Gregory Manes, Isobel Evans/Gregory Manes, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 19
Kudos: 50





	Under the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Finally DONE! :3  
> Thank you all so much for your patience, for reacting so positively when I posted about the idea, for showing your enthusiasm on tumblr. I've been hoping to do something like this for the longest time, and I'm finally finished.  
> I hope you enjoy reading. If you do, even a little bit, please comment your opinion and share this story, I promise it makes the world of a difference 💙

Alex stared at the waves as they hit the shore. They were not frightening, there was no monster come to get him buried in their depths.

Seagulls flew overhead, sailors called out to another to Alex’s far left as their boats and ships came to dock. The wind blew in his ears, and the waves crashed again and receded, as if tempting Alex to come after them.

His fingers curled to fists at his sides and he took a deep breath. He screamed, running at the water. The sand was soft beneath his feet, the pebbles and sharper rocks pinched and bruised, but Alex kept running. He was sure to do it this time. Nothing would keep him back.

But as Alex neared, a wave rose and made its way towards him. His heart hammering in his chest, his legs suddenly like lead, forbidding him from getting any closer, Alex gasped and retreated just as the water crashed on the shore. He felt a few splashes, cold on his ankles, and they sent a shock throughout his entire body.

He ran until he reached the short ledge of earth protruding from the ground, where the water could not reach him, and he collapsed against it, heaving as the waves receded once again.

Alex pulled his legs up to his chest and panted against his knees, waiting long after his heartbeat had slowed. The world went on around him, the seagulls’ cries, the sailors’ yells, and the waves that seemed more taunting now as they calmly fell to shore and back again.

Alex dug his toes in the sand a moment longer before he forced himself up, glumly carrying himself back up the stone steps leading onto the wide street. Carriages rode past, men in tall hats and long coats carried themselves off to work, women in beautiful dresses laughed to one another as they strolled past, and if anyone followed Alex with their eyes, wondering why this young man was leaving a trail of sand in his wake, no one questioned it.

It was early, the sun had risen high – for Alex would not have gone down to shore without proper sunlight to guide him – and as Alex returned barefoot, his boots in hand, he thought of his next plan. Perhaps it would be better to try again in the afternoon. Perhaps hunger was making the fear worse.

“‘Morning, Alex!” Mr. Higgins, a pudgy old man, called from his booth at the market. Several dead fish lay in piles of ice before him. Alex tried his best not to wrinkle his nose as he passed.

“Good morning,” he said politely.

“Hungry? I could give you one of my biggest, no charge!” he offered Alex a large fish wrapped in paper, its round dead eye staring at him.

“Eh – no, thank you,” Alex said. “I don’t really like fish.”

He hurried off, hopping on one foot at a time as he forced on his boots, trying not to wince as grains of sand pinched his skin.

When the smell of sugar, cinnamon, and chocolate wafted through the air, Alex felt the tension in his chest ease slightly. He turned the corner and there it was, between two granite buildings – _Le Gateau au Chocolat_ ; a small pastry shop with a variety of croissants, crepes, and biscuits on display. Alex opened the door and the small bell rung. The tall man behind the counter, who had been sliding more small cakes into the glass display, looked up upon Alex’s entrance and smiled widely.

“Well, don’t you look chipper?” he said.

“Very funny,” Alex grumbled, sliding into one of the many wooden chairs tucked into one of the many small round tables.

“I take it you couldn’t go in?” Alex did not respond. “Alex, it’s all right.”

“It’s not _all right_ , Gregory!” Alex said desperately. “I feel like a coward!”

“I keep telling you not to force it,” Gregory said calmly.

“I’m not _forcing_ it –”

“Oh?” he raised a brow, clearly not believing his brother.

“How else does one overcome such a fear?”

“Time?” Gregory suggested. “Gentility? Patience?” Alex scoffed. “No, my apologies, you’re right of course. Obviously, the best solution is to run at it like a bloody lunatic.” He put a small plate of chocolate biscuits in front of Alex and kissed his temple. “ _Don’t rush it._ You have all the time in the world, brother.”

_But that’s just it, brother_ , Alex desperately wanted to say, but could not. _I have no time at all._

As Gregory stepped back into the kitchen, Isobel came in through a closed door on the side, muttering to herself as she looked over the several letters gathered in her hands.

When she saw Alex, she raised a brow. “Where’d you go off to so early, then?”

“Nowhere,” Alex said, already sitting up. “Are any of those for me?”

“Er –” Isobel carded through them, then again. When she looked up, her eyes were apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Alex rested his chin on the back of his hand, shrugging. “No need to be.”

Isobel handed Gregory the letters, and tilted her chin out to receive a kiss to the cheek. She pulled an apron off a hanger on the wall, tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear that had come loose from its braid, and huffed.

“Well, _I_ don’t see a reason to be upset at all! You could do far better, in my opinion.”

Alex hummed. He had learned long ago that when his sister-in-law turned so passionate, it was best to let her go on as she pleased, otherwise you were likely to be caught in an eternal debate on all the many ways you were inevitably wrong, and she was inevitably brilliant.

Alex liked hearing it less and less. He didn’t care how much _better_ he could do, he ignored all of the invitations from perfectly handsome men and their perfectly handsome families, he kindly turned away every pleading eye, every desperate touch, every praising word. None of it mattered to him. Because none of them were _him_.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” Isobel asked, and Alex looked up. Gregory was scowling at a letter.

“It’s father,” Gregory said with a glance at Alex. “He asks that we accompany him as he sets out to sea in a few days.”

Alex slumped back in his chair, cutting one of the biscuits in half. “Goodness, again? Could it possibly have something to do with his strange new discoveries, I wonder?”

“He seems very sure of himself this time,” Gregory said, his eyes scanning the letter. “Claims he’s _certain_ he’s found it.”

Isobel, who had already begun baking, called out from the kitchens. “This isn’t about the _merpeople_ again, is it?”

“It’s always about the merpeople,” Gregory and Alex said at the same time. Gregory with an exasperated tone, Alex while rolling his eyes.

“He’s never going to stop,” Gregory sighed, crumbling the piece of paper and throwing it in the bin. “Not with Flint there to take every one of his foolish orders and tell him how brilliant he is.”

“Have you spoken to him?” Alex asked, unable to help himself.

“I’ve tried,” Gregory said. “He keeps showing me father’s research, as if that will make the venture any less ridiculous.”

“He only wants answers,” Alex said quietly. “We all do.”

“Mother _drowned_ , Alex,” Gregory said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “There were no merpeople that pulled her under the water, no magic that yearned to end her life. Only fate. There’s your answer. The sooner the others accept that, the better off they’ll be. As will you.”

For a moment, nothing but the sound of crackling flames from the oven and Isobel working in the kitchens was heard. Then Alex stood, his hands in his pockets, and he said, “I’m off to work.”

“What – _now_?”

“Yes,” he said crossing the room to the door Isobel had just come in through.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Gregory said.

“Not hungry,” Alex said, and closed the door behind him. He paused a moment, leaning his back against it as he considered his brother’s words. He thought of his entire childhood, spent with a father growing more and more hysterical by the day, his eyes on more charts and maps of the ocean than his own children.

As Alex ascended the narrow, winding staircase, he thought of the last time Gregory had unwillingly gone with their father on one of his voyages, years ago. Alex had waited for them on the shore, and they had returned soaked and angry, all of them for different reasons.

“We were close!” his father always said after a voyage. “We almost found them!”

“The whales? Or the giant squid?” Gregory snapped. “You and your wild ventures nearly got us killed!”

“You don’t have the spine to hunt these creatures down, Gregory!” Jesse had yelled back. “Alex, _you_ will be taking your brother’s place in our next –”

“Don’t you come near him,” Gregory had said through grit teeth. “I have allowed Alex to linger in the darkness your mind has become for far too long. He stays with me and my betrothed from this day forward. Flint, are you coming?”

“Er –” but Flint had taken one look at his father’s pale face, his angry blue eyes, and quietly said, “Gregory, I think we ought to listen to father. I know a saw a fin this time.”

“Yes, you did, as did I,” Gregory had said, exasperated. “It was the bloody _sea_ , of course the creatures had fins. Enough of this, enough of both of you. Come along, Alex. You’re not to stay with these two any longer.”

Of course, Jesse had repeatedly sent letters to Alex over the years, asking him to join him. Finally, Gregory took them before Alex had even a chance of opening them, and torn them apart.

“That ought to send a clear message,” he’d mutter, and eventually, it did. The letters for Alex stopped coming, and were written instead to appeal to Gregory, asking for them both.

Alex wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if he was to write back. To tell his father that perhaps it was time he let go of his obsession. That he had four sons who hardly knew him anymore. Perhaps it would wake him from this fantasy. Or perhaps, Alex feared, it would send him further away from them.

Alex opened the door to his very small room at the end of the very long corridor of their very miniscule home where he had come to live with his brother and sister-in-law, and opened his closet door. On the inside hung an old painting for a docked ship that he loved, a ship that reminded him of someone very dear to his heart.

“Stop that,” he scolded himself quietly, forcing the image of curly hair and bright eyes from his mind. He had promised he would not allow himself to think of _him_ , not until he deserved to, and as he had failed in his venture into the ocean this morning, he had not yet gained that privilege.

Alex pulled his coat out and attempted not to think of anything else as he ran down the long corridor, down the spiraling staircase, kissed Isobel’s cheek other goodbye, and went out the front door. Alex ran as fast as his legs could carry him, weaving his way past people in coats and women in long dresses, making their own way to work or to visit a friend or relative for the morning.

Some called good morning to him, others yelled after him for accidentally bumping their shoulders or nearly knocking them off their feet with the amount of boxes in hand.

“Slow down, lad!” Mrs. Valenti called behind him. “There’s no fire this morning either!”

“Sorry!” Alex called and kept running. Soon enough, he found himself in front of a small shop with a variety of dresses and suits in the display window. Alex hunched over a moment, regaining his breath and fixing the top hat on his head, and opened the door.

From behind the counter, a short woman raised her head inquiringly. When she saw that it was Alex, she huffed, and dumped a pile of silks on the table before her.

“ _Look_ at these!” she demanded.

“Good morning to you as well, Liz,” Alex said.

“What color are these?” she insisted.

Alex raised a brow. “Eh – blue?”

“Well, yes, I can see they’re blue. _Sky_ blue,” she added indignantly at Alex’s confused expression, as if this was obviously the most troubling observation anyone could ever make. Alex smiled, amused, setting his hat on the counter between them.

“I didn’t order _sky_ blue.”

“What _did_ you order?” Alex asked.

“ _Pale_ blue!” she said, throwing her arms up. “Pale blue is innocent, it’s _pure_ , it’s magical. _Sky_ blue is a waste of fabric, is what it is!”

“Naturally,” Alex said, sliding onto the stool across from her. “Tell me something, couldn’t we simply _use_ the sky-blue fabric?”

Liz looked then as if she’d been slapped. “What’re we, _barbarians_?”

Alex pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Max ruined the order again, did he?”

“Clearly,” she said. “I’ll have to send for him. Do you mind running to the post with a letter?”

Alex smiled, though he confessed, it was a little hard to be amused at the thought of seeing Max. Still, he leaned forward on his elbows, crossing his arms, and asked, “D’you ever think he ruins the order on purpose so that you’d send for him?”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Liz said thoughtlessly, rummaging her drawers for a paper and ink. “I give him a right talking to every time he walks through that door, there’s no man alive who can put up with that.”

Alex laughed and stood. “If you say so.”

Liz abruptly stopped what she was doing, as if remembering something quite suddenly, and leaned over the counter. Very slowly, she looked back up at Alex’s face. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Is that _sand_ on your boots?”

“No,” he said, the lie evident to his own ears.

Liz groaned. “ _This_. This is precisely why I don’t like that family. After the way that man _treated_ you –”

“Are you arguing against Isobel’s character?” Alex cut her off, hoping to change the subject.

“She’s loud and selfish, and I stand by that,” Liz said determinedly. “Your brother could’ve done with better.”

“Oh dear, not this again,” Alex said with a sigh, removing his coat and hanging it on a nearby hook. “Why don’t we simply work with the _green_ silks today? They work fairly well, don’t they? Or are they a raging disappointment as well?”

“Daisies,” Liz said suddenly, snapping her fingers. “That’s what the green needs. Grab the white string, Alex, start sewing,” she said hurriedly, pulling her own coat off a hook and throwing her hat over her head, a hastily written letter, no doubt as infuriated as Liz’s expression, clutched tightly in one hand. “I’ll go visit the post myself. I’ll show him, toying with my time, as if I’ve not got anything better to do! _Honestly_!”

The door slammed shut behind her and Alex watched as she angrily adjusted her hat and patted down her dress before she was out of sight. He sighed, his smile dimming only slightly before he rolled his sleeves back.

“Right,” he said to no one. “Time to get to work, then.”

Alex rummaged around in the box of fabrics and pulled out the roll of green silks. As he was alone in the store, he dragged his worktable from the backroom and placed it beside the front counter. He pulled a mannequin close to his desk and began unwrapping the silks.

As he measured, he could not help but think, yet again, of the ocean. The way the silk flowed reminded him of the waves that had so cruelly taunted him that morning.

_Fool_ , Alex thought. _The water could not taunt you,_ you _were the one that ran away._

Again, Alex found himself thinking of his father’s letter. He wondered how his family was preparing for the voyage out to sea, if Flint was at all concerned with what they would find, if Clay would answer his father’s call for aid or if he, like Gregory, believed it a fool’s errand.

Perhaps Alex should write to Clay, should ask him what he was planning. To know, of course, nothing more. It wasn’t as if _Alex_ believed it anything more than a pointless venture, but it would only be interesting to know what all of his brothers thought of it. Perhaps he should write to Flint as well.

The bell above the door rang and Alex woke from his thoughts. He turned, a _good morning_ on his lips, then he saw it was Max, and the words lodged in his throat.

“Er – hello,” Max said, his smile somewhat awkward. Alex, startled to see him, could only nod once, the measuring tape and scissors still in hand. “Is Liz here?”

“She went to the post,” Alex said. “To send for you.”

“Ah,” Max said, though he seemed far from concerned. In fact, he looked almost pleased, as if Liz _didn’t_ scream at him every time she’s sent for him. “Right, then. I assume she went a while ago?”

Alex shrugged a shoulder. “She should be back soon, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Max hummed, looked around, exhaled through his nose and said, “D’you mind if I wait here, then?”

“Suppose not.”

“Good, great, thank you,” Max said, glanced out the window, and took the chair in front of Alex’s mannequin. His eyes roamed the shop, the silks, the boxes of string Alex had set up at his feet, and – more often than anything else – the door. A few people walked by the shop window and each time, Max would be halfway out of his seat, hopeful, but as soon as he realized it wasn’t Liz, he would sit back down, disheartened.

Alex chuckled around the fifth time. “You do know she opens the door, don’t you?”

“Hm? What?” Max blinked, his cheeks a faint pink. “Oh, I – er – I don’t understand.”

“Never mind,” Alex said, still smiling, as he pulled along the box of strings and gathered some green string and a few needles.

A moment of silence, then, “You do that all alone, then?” Max asked. “No servants to help you?”

“We can’t afford it,” Alex said. “Besides, Liz says it builds character. And I don’t mind it much.”

“Hardworking, I always liked you,” Max said with an appreciative nod, and Alex did so wish he stopped trying to find something to talk about. “How’s Isobel? Is she and Gregory all right?”

Alex raised a brow. “Didn’t you speak to her yesterday?”

Max smiled sheepishly. “She’s quite miffed with me, I’m afraid. More so with Michael, but . . . I’m sorry, I did not mean to upset you.”

“Hm?” Alex looked up, and realized too late that he had stopped listening at the mention of Michael’s name. “Oh no,” he returned his attention to the silks with a clear of his throat. “I’m quite all right.”

When Max said nothing, Alex asked, “And – er – Michael? Is he doing well?”

“Yes, yes, very well!” Max said hastily, apparently eager to right the wrong he had committed. “Well, a tad frustrated, really, in his search for a wife.” Max chuckled, clapping Alex on the arm goodheartedly. “I suppose, after you, no one’s good enough.”

But Alex could no longer hear him. His heart had sunk into his stomach and his hands felt like lead as they fell limp, the needles and strings sliding from his hands and onto the floor.

“A . . . wife?” Alex muttered, though he felt the words were not his own. He was out of his body, watching the conversation play out before him by two strangers. One so full of life, the other dead where he sat. “Michael is . . . looking to marry?”

Max, however, seemed to sense nothing wrong, and he leaned in. “I told you, hadn’t I, the day you left him? I _told_ you that you had not destroyed his life. That he would find love again. And you were so worried for his future.”

And Max, undoubtedly feeling that he had accomplished a great kindness in telling Alex this, leaned back again, much more at ease. “He even has his sights set on a friend’s daughter. Of course, Michael is a bit tedious to live with – believe me, I know – so that does slightly worry me. God knows how you. . . . Alex, are you all right? You look like you’re going to be ill.”

“Yes, I didn’t have much of a breakfast,” Alex mumbled quietly as he numbly returned to his dress.

Max looked concerned still as he searched Alex’s face, but Alex could not meet his eyes. “Would you like me to go get you something?”

Just as Alex opened his mouth to answer, he heard the bell above the door jingle, and in came Liz, tossing her hat and gloves furiously on the counter.

“Bloody wind’s made it _impossible_ to get anywhere,” she started, saw Max as he stood, and her scowl deepened. “ _YOU!_ I’ve just returned from the post to send for you, why are you already here?!”

Max looked nervous to see her, his cheeks tinted red, but Alex could not bear the two much attention for long, his thoughts on Michael. Michael was looking for a wife? How could he even _consider_ doing such a thing? Was Alex already out of time?

_“I need someone who can be there by my side. Won’t it be you?”_

Then, as if lightning had struck, a flash of images came to Alex all at once. His father’s letter, the painting he had pinned on the inside of his closet, hidden, Gregory and Isobel’s concern when Michael had told them that it was Alex who had ended the relationship, and, above all, Michael’s face as he asked Alex, time and time again, if he was ready to stand beside him.

Alex stood, abandoning his strings and needless, his silks and measurements. He was only vaguely aware of Liz calling his name, asking him what was wrong, asking Max what he’d done to him, but Alex could pay them no mind. He ran for the door, nearly throwing it off its hinges as he swung it open and pelted into the streets. He ran as quickly as his legs could carry him, barely avoiding running into more people, some gasping as he dashed past, others cursing after him.

But Alex would not stop. He _could_ not. He felt a searing pain in his side, his eyes burned as Max’s words echoed in his head, but he kept running. When _Le Gateau au Chocolat_ came into view, Alex ran faster. He swung the door open, nearly knocking aside a woman and her son as they carried a few large bags.

“Sorry!” Alex breathed, slammed both hands on the counter, and said to his startled brother. “I want to see father’s letter.”

Gregory blinked several times, then gaped. “ _Alexander!_ ”

“Oh yes, terribly sorry, how rude of me,” he panted, then turned to the large lady and her son, bowed his head once and said, “Good morning, Madame Beatrice. George.” Then, turning again to Gregory, he said, “Can I have the letter now?”

“Er – good morning to you,” Gregory called out to a rather ruffled Madame Beatrice and her son who seemed to be having a good laugh at the whole ordeal he’d just witnessed. When he looked to Alex again, he was frowning. “I already crumpled it up, you saw me do it.”

“Yes, yes,” Alex muttered, thinking hard. “And you – you threw it away! Didn’t clear out the bin yet, did you?”

As Alex moved towards the small blue bin against the wall, Gregory moved to block his path.

“What on earth do you need to see that letter for?” he demanded.

“I want to admire the penmanship,” Alex huffed. “What do you think – _ow!_ ”

Alex clutched the side of his head where Gregory had just smacked him. “Don’t jest, Alex, _what do you want with that letter?_ If you’re thinking of _responding_ to that summons –”

“And what if I am, what’s it to you?” Alex said. “It’s addressed to the both of us. You may not want to go, but –”

“But _what_?” Gregory said, eyes wide. “ _You_ want to go out to sea to look for merpeople? Entertain father’s ridiculous fantasy about monsters in the ocean? Are you _mad_?!”

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” Isobel asked as she came out, looking very messily pretty with blonde strands falling down her shoulders, her face, apron, dress, and hands already covered with smears of chocolate and flower. “Alex, what are you doing here?”

“Listen to your brother,” Gregory demanded, hands on his aproned hips. “He wants to accept father’s request to go out with him to sea.”

Isobel looked surprised. “Alex, is this true?”

“Yes!” Alex said. “I’ve never accepted it before, what harm can it do? At the very least, I should know what I’m missing, shouldn’t I?”

“You, little brother, are going to be the death of me,” Gregory said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any idea what father’s voyages are like? _Days_ out at sea with him barking orders at you, not caring whether you die under the sun or drown, so long as he finds what he’s looking for. And he never has!”

“Maybe this time he will,” Alex said stubbornly, and Gregory made a sound at the back of his throat as if he was choking. Then he looked to Isobel, pointing accusingly at Alex with an open hand, as if to say, _D’you think you can have a go at trying to talk some sense into him?_

Alex straightened his shoulders. “If you don’t think me capable of handling father for a few days –”

“No one said you’re incapable, Alex,” Isobel said gently, wiping her hands on her own apron. “But . . . sailing is hard enough as it is. I should know, my parents took my brothers and I on enough of them, and. . . .” she trailed off, her eyes narrowing at Alex as if slowly realizing something. Then –

“Come in here,” she said as the door opened again and a man came in. “Gregory, you handle this.”

Gregory nodded, glancing at Alex with exasperation and something akin to concern as Alex passed him and followed Isobel into the kitchens.

They went to the furthest wall from the door, beside the window.

Isobel had her arms crossed as she searched Alex’s face, looking for something, though what, Alex could not say. Finally, she said, “You’ve heard about Michael.”

Alex attempted not to betray any emotion, but whatever he hoped to hide, Isobel seemed to spot it. “I hoped you wouldn’t.”

“You should have told me sooner,” Alex said.

“Why?” Isobel said. “ _You’re_ the one who ended things with my brother, I would’ve thought any news of him would be the very last thing you’d want to hear.”

Alex huffed. He didn’t have _time_ to explain everything now. He thought he had more time to fix things, to fix _everything_ , but he had no time at all.

“ _Look_ , I’ve been considering taking father’s offer for a while now,” he lied. “I only realized today that this may be the last time he asked. I want to go, Isobel. Is that not my choice?”

“It is a matter of days out at _sea_ ,” Isobel repeated, as if Alex had not been made aware already. “You can understand why we fear for you, can’t you?”

“What better to permanently cure my fear of the ocean than a voyage?” Alex said. “If it doesn’t work, then that time with my father and Flint ought to prove enough of a punishment for my foolish plan, won’t it?”

Alex very deliberately did not add what he was thinking; _And if it succeeds, then I can return to Michael’s side, and everything will be all right again._

Isobel continued to search Alex’s face for what seemed any sign of hesitation or fear, but if she could find any, she did not say. Alex could not say he felt the fear of the voyage now, not when his mind was racing with thoughts of Michael with someone else, Michael leaving him behind forever. If this was what it took to retrieve his love, then Alex would do it.

Isobel seemed to realize this as well, for she sighed and nodded. “I’ll talk to Gregory, then. Go on, before I change my mind.”

Alex kissed her cheek in thanks, then the back of her hand, and as he turned to leave the kitchens, he heard her mutter, “I still believe you could do much better.”

The next morning, Gregory begrudgingly and very unwillingly wrote back to their father to tell him Alex would be joining him, but not before he asked Alex a multitude of questions that all fell within the realm of; _Are you_ certain _you want to do this?_

And the truth was that Alex didn’t think he did, but he kept pushing that thought down every time it arose in favor of punishing himself with mental flashes of Michael with someone else, Michael kissing someone else, Michael building a home and a family with someone else.

And every time, it served its purpose. Alex took the letter from Gregory to deliver himself and began packing immediately. In an old knapsack, he gathered rope, a small blanket, a few of Isobel’s famous chocolate biscuits fit tightly into a small tin container, and in a smaller glass bottle, he carefully unpinned the painting of Michael’s ship from his closet, folded it, and pushed it inside, shutting the bottle tightly with a cork.

Liz was startled when she’d heard the news that Alex would be leaving for a few days.

“But as soon I’m back, I will spend every waking moment in this shop,” Alex said hastily. “I will have two – no, _three_ dresses done in no more than a week!”

Liz pressed her lips tightly together. “This is for _him_ , isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!” Alex lied. “And would everyone stop assuming that?!”

She glared at him for a long time before huffing and returning to the cotton in front of her. “All right, then. All right. When you come back having fully regretted your decision – and I assure you, you _will_ fully regret this decision – I want you to promise that you will stop thinking of Michael. I don’t want to hear his name, no more early trips to the shore, and – as a matter of fact – he and his family are _banned_ from this shop! BANNED!”

Alex could only agree, though he secretly knew there was no need for it, as his plan to eradicate his fear of the water once and for all seemed infallible in his mind. Who, after enduring days out at sea, could come back fearing it? So Liz and Alex resumed their work, and all the while, Alex could only think of conquering the waves at last, of appearing on Michael’s doorstep with a confident promise of being at his side no matter where he stood – or perhaps he ought to surprise Michael at shore alongside his ship?

For as Alex sat there, fantasizing about his great achievements, of his love’s joyous and proud face, he did not question whether this voyage would cost him more than he could have imagined. He did not know what was truly to come.

The morning of the voyage, Alex sat in their small kitchen in the flat above the bakery, his hands curled to tight fists on his knees as his leg bounced on the floor.

“Nervous?” Gregory asked mildly.

“No,” Alex said at once, realized he’d answered too quickly, then cleared his throat and repeated more calmly, “No.”

“Eat something,” Isobel said, placing a plate of eggs before him.

Alex poked at it with his fork, unable to stomach much of anything, until it was finally time to go. He slung his knapsack over his shoulders, exhaled deeply, and put out a hand for Gregory to take. “Well, I suppose there’s not much to say.”

Gregory sighed and stood, ignoring Alex’s hand in favor of pulling him in for an embrace. He had one hand in Alex’s hair, and Alex might have believed Gregory was not worried if not for the way his hold trembled.

“Take care. And do not stand between father and the water,” he added in a whisper.

Alex frowned. “Why not?”

“Because he won’t see you,” Gregory said darkly. He held Alex’s face in his hands, kissed his forehead, and left him for Isobel to kiss on the cheek.

Alex knew the way to the shore just fine, for he had run there countless mornings and afternoons and nights, but as he made his way that morning, the path felt strange and new. He was not going for a hope, but for a necessity. He could not run from his father and his ship as he so often ran from the waves.

Alex spotted his brother on the shore first, speaking to several men who Alex assumed were his father’s crew. Directly behind him, docked against the harbor, was his father’s ship. Alex felt his heart turn to stone, fall into his stomach, and keep him in place. It looked like a giant, towering over them all. Not quite as large as Michael’s ship which hid the sun, but large enough.

Alex was only beginning to wonder how much money Jesse must have paid the crew to come along when he caught Flint’s attention. His brother raised a hand to call him over, dismissing the others. Alex swallowed past the lump in his throat, and forced his feet forward.

“Alex, you really came,” Flint huffed a surprised chuckle, pulling Alex in for an embrace.

Alex patted his back twice and stepped back, clutching the straps of his knapsack. “I said I would.”

“Yes, but . . . well, I haven’t seen you in so long,” Flint said, patting down a few of Alex’s messy strands, though they refused to be combed. “I only thought . . . but never you mind that, you’re here now, that is all that matters.”

Alex wished he could take more joy in his brother’s words, but something about them raised the already existing dread in his chest. Flint seemed so relieved to see Alex, _too_ relieved. Perhaps, Alex thought, Flint was more relieved to know that someone else – _anyone else_ – would be joining them?

“I suppose it can’t have been easy to be alone on a ship with father all this time,” Alex said, attempted to sound lighthearted.

Flint scratched the back of his head, looking over his shoulder at the ship onto which the crew had now been loading crates and barrels. “Eh, he’s not so bad. Really, you’ll see.”

Alex clutched the straps tighter still. “Why – er – why are they bringing aboard so much food for the voyage?” he asked, jumping on his toes a bit. “We’re only going for a few days, aren’t we?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, certainly! No, really, Alex, don’t look like that, we really are only going for a few days.” Flint sighed. “Two or three of those crates are filled with food. The rest have ropes, spare long lenses, grappling hooks, an anchor or two – you know, of that variety. Father likes to be prepared.”

Flint patted his shoulder. “Come on. Best to join the others on board. Father will be so pleased to see you. He could hardly believe you were coming either.”

If Jesse had been shocked to see his son on board his ship, he did not show it. He was rushing about the deck, checking the steadiness of the mast, the helm, the map they were to follow. Alex supposed his back was as straight and tense as it felt for Flint quietly assured him that the ship, as well as their navigation, was as steady as could be, and that their father _always_ acted like this before a voyage.

When Alex’s father spotted him, he blinked, then came rushing forward and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“You’re here,” Jesse said. “You know your duty after all.”

“Er – hello, father,” Alex said, startled, as he began to return his father’s embrace. Then Jesse pulled back and Alex saw that his father had not pulled him in for an embrace at all, but was fitting a long lens around his neck.

“You will keep watch over the east side of the ship,” he mumbled, his eyes moving rapidly between Alex’s and the lens. “If you see _anything_ , shout. Fish or otherwise.”

Then he stalked off, leaving Flint and Alex to look after him. “Hasn’t changed at all, has he?” Alex muttered.

Flint’s nervous smile returned, and he patted Alex’s back. “Come. Stand at the helm with me while we set sail. It’s quite pleasurable.”

But _pleasurable_ , this trip could not possibly be. Alex, who felt a cold chill in his spine at the mere _sight_ of the ocean, was assigned to stare at water for the next few days. His father was vigilant as well, as Alex was quickly reminded. He watched over their shoulders, plastered himself against Alex’s back, adjusted Alex’s grip on the lens time and time again, and every time Alex needed to look down at the deck instead of the water, reminding himself that he was dry, he was safe, that the ocean could not reach him, Jesse roughly took his face in hand and forced it up.

“ _Never_ take your eyes off the water, Alex,” Jesse warned. “They’re _waiting_ for you to look away.”

Alex’s father did not seem to rest, and only ate when forced to sit down by Flint. After only a day, Alex felt he had made a grave mistake. He could not take the sway of the boat any longer, the miles and miles and _miles_ of water ahead of him and nothing else. He was sleeping more than Jesse only by a minute or two, unable to bear his chamber with Flint, feeling as if the walls would cave in at any moment and drown him.

“Had you never gone onto Michael’s ship before?” Flint asked Alex one morning after he’d found him curled on the deck with his blanket.

“No,” Alex said, his voice hoarse, taking the offered bit of toast and marmalade. “There was never the chance for it. He never voyaged when he was with me.”

Flint nodded, taking a seat beside him. “I suppose he knew of your fear of the water.”

Alex did not answer, shoveling the rest of the toast into his mouth.

“I hear you – er – were the one to end the engagement,” Flint said awkwardly. “Good for you. I always thought he was – you know – a tad –”

“How _does_ word spread so widely, I wonder?” Alex cut him off, agitated. He forced himself to his feet, tucking the blanket into the knapsack he kept at his side. He had spent all of the previous night staring at the painting of Michael’s ship, pretending the waves he heard and felt all around him were merely coming from the painted waters. He wondered, as he felt the bottle brush his fingers, what Michael was doing now. Had he slept tonight? Had he thought of Alex at all?

Alex felt a chilled breeze on the back of his neck and shuddered. He looked up. The sky that had only been dotted by clouds the previous night was now almost entirely covered with them.

“I don’t like the look of that,” Flint said, and Alex realized that he’d thoughtlessly clutched his brother’s sleeve, his knuckles turning white. He immediately let go, though Flint hardly seemed to notice as he pulled out his map and unfolded it.

“You don’t think there’ll be a storm, do you?”

“It’s all right, worry not,” Flint murmured, his brows furrowed as his eyes scanned the paper. When he looked up again, he was smiling. “We’re nearly to our destination now. Ought to reach there by midday.”

“Destination?” Alex blinked. “Surely, you don’t mean –”

“Flint!” Jesse suddenly called, coming aboard the deck as he attempted to hurriedly put on his coat. It seemed he did not want to remain in his chambers long enough to finish dressing himself. “What news from our navigator?”

“See for yourself, father!” Flint beamed. “We are only but a few miles from the North Sea. I do not expect we shall be any later than noon.”

Jesse nodded, baring the smallest trace of a smile. Alex wondered if he could really see the map at all anymore, his gaze focused on a point just beyond the paper. “Excellent, excellent. I want everyone on watch as we approach the area.”

Flint’s smile faltered slightly. “There is – er – the small matter of the oncoming storm, father?”

“What?” Jesse looked up for only the briefest moment, then waved away Flint’s concern. “Nonsense, nonsense, a bit of wind, that’s all it is. Ready the sails, the faster we move, the better.”

Flint looked momentarily panicked. “I would highly advise against that, father –”

“Flint,” he snapped, turning his collar up against the wind. “Do as you’re told. Ready the crew, I want everyone on watch in no less than five minutes.”

“Yes, father,” Flint said quietly, and Alex approached him as their father moved to the helm. “He will not listen to reason. I will keep the sails up only until we get there, then I’m lowering them. I only hope we reach the area before the storm hits.”

“This place we’re going to,” Alex started quietly, “in the middle of the ocean. . . . Is that where . . .?”

He trailed off, but Flint seemed to understand his question. “Yes, Alex, that is where mother fell overboard and drowned.”

Alex raised a brow. “So you don’t think _merpeople_ pulled her down, then?”

Flint sighed. “All I know is that we have searched those waters more times than I can count. Every time, I can hope beyond hope that father is right. I think finally finding these creatures is the only thing that will calm his mind.”

“And everything will be all right again?” Alex finished. “Do you honestly believe that?”

Flint clutched the map so tightly it wrinkled. “I have to, Alex. We’ve already lost a mother. I cannot lose our father, too.”

Midday came soon enough, though Alex could swear it had turned to the middle of the night. The clouds grew so thick that they hid the sun, the waves turned more and more restless by the second. They had arrived to their destination at last and Flint had been glad for it, ordering the crew to close the sails and drop the anchor. Jesse was far too busy barking orders across deck to notice, checking once again over everyone’s shoulders.

“Found anything yet?” he asked Alex, but the wind had grown too strong for anyone to hear anything.

Alex squinted, his fingers on his long lens having turned numb from the cold. He shook his head, hoping that would be an answer to whatever his father had asked, and as soon as Jesse had gone, Alex pried his own fingers from the lens. He reached into his knapsack instead for the bottle that he reached for whenever this voyage came to be too much, when he felt as if he would rather die in his sleep than bear another day out at sea, and held it close to his chest. He uncorked the bottle, pulled out the painting, and stared at Michael’s ship, drawing strength from it.

He imagined Michael here with him, holding him tightly in his arms, promising him that he would keep him safe.

_“It’s a bad dream,”_ Michael would have said. _“That’s all it is. You’ll wake up soon. Just hold on a little longer, my love.”_

Alex shut his eyes tight, muttering Michael’s name, the only comfort he had as his heart hammered painfully in his chest, as his fear grew unbearable, as he felt himself ready to faint where he stood –

Then a spot of rain hit the painting. Alex gasped and quickly folded the paper, pushing it back into the bottle and corking it. No sooner had he secured that it would remain dry that the storm hit tenfold, and the bottle slipped from his hands and into the ocean below.

“NO!” Alex screamed, leaning over the edge, arm and fingers stretched out. But it was too late. His treasure had vanished.

Alex deflated, eyes wide. That was when he spotted it. A flash of blue and gold beneath the waves, like a brilliant star in the middle of a black sky. And a face.

Alex furiously wiped the rain from his eyes and looked again, but the face, the blue and gold, had vanished, along with his painting.

The boat rocked violently from side to side, and Alex held on for dear life, his body trembling as a heavy rain poured over their heads, soaking their clothes and filling the deck with water.

Would the ship begin to sink? Would they all freeze to death beforehand? Alex could hear Flint and Jesse screaming through the storm, the crew screaming back, but Alex could not hear _what_ they were saying. All he could do was hold on to the edge of the ship, his knapsack’s straps digging into his shoulders. He was so cold he feared he would never be warm again, every inch of him drenched that he feared he would never again be dry.

He wanted to go home, to be dry in bed with Gregory and Isobel’s baked goods wafting throughout the building. He wanted Michael, to be at his side, to feel his warmth, his kiss, his love.

The boat was violently rocked back again, and Alex only barely clung to the edge in time, saving himself from being flung backwards against the deck. But then it swung the other direction, and, so caught off guard, Alex could only gasp as he was carried off his feet. It was as if he was watching the scene slowly play out before him, his heartbeats minutes apart and all he could hear.

He was thrown off the edge of the ship, watching everyone else run around the deck, an expression of panic on every one of their faces. No one seemed to notice that Alex was hovering over the ocean now, upside down. Flint and Jesse turned their heads almost at once, spotted him, and the last thing Alex heard before he disappeared beneath the ocean’s surface was his family, screaming his name. Then the world turned silent.

Voices. Alex accounted for echoing voices before he knew of anything else. He was lying on a hard surface, he knew that much, digging into his back, arms, and legs. He was dry, but the air was freezing. Was he in a ballroom? Could it be possible that he and Liz had been called to the palace, and, in his excitement, Alex had fainted?

But he remembered the ocean, his brother and father, a ship, being thrown over the edge. Surely, that had to have all been a dream? Alex could not imagine why he would ever willingly have joined a voyage out to sea.

“Has the storm ceased?” Alex heard a male’s voice ask. His voice was soft, and Alex tried very hard to keep still as he felt the man lean in closely to him.

_That’s right_ , he remembered. _There had been a storm._

“Only just,” another voice, further away, responded. This time female. “I hardly think it’s safe to return him yet.”

“ _Do_ we plan on returning him?” a man asked. “He is awfully pretty.”

“A fair question,” another woman said, her voice tinted with amusement. “I wonder what he would look like in aquamarine.”

“Magnificent, I would bet,” the man closest to Alex said. Then Alex felt a hand gently trace down his cheek. Still yet, he did not move.

“I don’t like this,” another man said. “If the others discover that we have a _man_ hidden here –”

“Was I meant to let him drown?”

“Do you not know whose brother he is? Whose _son_?”

“He’s different,” the man said, and Alex felt him lean in closer. His heart hammered, but he resolved to appear to be asleep for as long as he possibly could.

“How?” the other man asked. “How could you _possibly_ know that?”

The man’s fingers moved from Alex’s cheek to his bottom lip. “I only know. I cannot explain it.”

“We best return, see what else has fallen from the ship,” a woman said, and Alex heard splashes all around him, a fine mist of water spraying him. He tried very hard not to flinch.

“Come, Forrest,” she said. “Let him sleep.”

At last, Alex felt the man closest to him disappear. When he was certain he was alone, Alex slowly opened his eyes. It was dark, where he was, save for a dim light by a small gathering of golden stones. Alex looked around, his body aching, and he realized he was in a cavern. It was high and seemed to stretch on endlessly, but all around him, Alex saw water.

He gasped, scurrying back as far as he was allowed, the cave wall keeping him from moving too far away.

“No more water,” Alex breathed. “No more water.”

As his back hit the rocks, he realized he still had his knapsack. He pulled it off, opened it, and almost cried in relief to see that everything was still inside. He pulled out his blanket, mostly dry, and slung it around his shoulders, trying to calm his breathing. He wondered only briefly how long he had been here in this cavern to dry, then spotted his tin can of biscuits and hastily pulled it out. He had no idea how hungry he was until he saw the pastries. He shoved each one into his mouth, finishing in no more than a bite, and as he thought of his brother and sister, large tears fell from his eyes.

He emptied the entire tin, wiped furiously at his face, and hugged his knees to his chest, sniffling. He had only just been unconscious, but he wanted to fall asleep again and never wake up. The only thing missing from his knapsack was Michael’s painting, but Alex thought he would have given up his warmth and food to have that back. If he was to die here, he wanted to die with the only memory of Michael he had left.

Alex realized he’d fallen asleep again sitting up when he heard a soft voice calling to him.

“Are you awake?” someone whispered, though the sound still echoed against the cave wall. “Can’t you please be awake?”

Alex groaned softly and looked up. He gasped and pulled his knees tighter against his chest. There, at the edge of the cavern, rising up to his chest from the water, was a man with blue hair, dark eyes with lines of gold and blue, and a large smile. Along the sides of his neck and arms, there were blue and gold scales that glowed dimly in the dark, he wore a small blue seashell around his neck, and just bedside the man, a large blue fin with gold dust protruded from the water. Alex stared, eyes wide, jaw tightly shut.

“I was right,” the man – or whatever he was – breathed. “You are even more beautiful awake.”

He reached a hand out to Alex, and Alex flinched, his terrified eyes moving between the man’s hand and his fin.

“You’re afraid of me? You needn’t be,” the man said softly, though he put his hand down. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Alex covered his ears with his hands, his eyes shut tight. “Wake up, Alex,” he whispered. “Wake up, _please_ , wake up.”

“You’re not dreaming,” the man said, tilting his head. “I like your name. It suits you. My name is Forrest.”

In lieu of answering, Alex shuddered, curling in deeper on himself. Forrest noticed and frowned. “You’re cold.”

Alex slowly brought his hands down. “Am I dead?” he asked hoarsely. He needed water.

“No?”

“Am I hallucinating?”

“I don’t think so,” Forrest said, leaning forward on the cave floor. He crossed his arms on the rock. “I believe I am quite real.”

Alex shook his head and instantly felt dizzy. “No, you – you can’t be here, _I_ can’t be here – merpeople are not. . . they’re not. . . .”

“ _Real?_ ” Forrest finished, smiling up at Alex from where he rested his chin on his arms. “Odd, hearing that. Why shouldn’t I be real?”

Alex did not know how to answer. Only then, a woman suddenly emerged from the water. Her dark skin glistened with pink and gold scales, she had pink seashells braided into her brown and gold curls, and beside her, a large pink and gold fin poked out of the water.

“Forrest, why aren’t you – oh, the human, he’s woken up! _Goodness_ , he _is_ prettier when he is awake.”

She attempted to move closer, but Alex gasped and scurried further away. He regretted it instantly as his head began to throb and his bones screamed in pain.

“Don’t move any closer, Maria,” he heard Forrest warn her. Alex’s head was in his hands, pressing with the bottoms of his palms against his temples.

“Is he in pain?” Maria asked. “I can help!”

“Hold on,” Forrest said quietly. “He’s a bit frayed at the moment.”

“Wake up, wake up, wake up,” Alex whispered to himself, eyes shut tight once more, his voice beginning to crack. “Please, _please_ , wake up.”

Alex could not see the expressions of the merpeople, or whatever hallucination had begun to fill his mind, but he soon heard the similar splash of water, and when he opened his eyes, he was alone again.

A sob escaped his lips and he came down slowly to lie on his side, hugging himself tightly with his blanket.

“Michael,” he muttered as a tear fell down the bridge of his nose. His fingers were slowly turning numb in the cold, and he was certain it would kill him soon. He forced himself to think of his mother and seeing her again, rather than where he was and who he had encountered. After all, once he awoke, surely, he was to be alone.

He was not.

Alex woke to find Forrest again, pushing something against the rock floor towards him.

Alex sat up, inhaling sharply. He rubbed his eyes roughly and narrowed them, adjusting to the dim light. Blankets. Forrest had given him blankets, dry and warm. Alex gasped and reached for them with numb and fingers. He pulled them hastily around his shoulders, shivering for several minutes before the feeling began to return to his body.

“Is that better?” Forrest asked, but Alex did not answer. Forrest looked pleased, regardless, when Alex’s breaths turned deeper and slower. “There you are. I brought you some water as well.”

And as he handed Alex a glass bottle of clear liquid, Alex raised a brow. Forrest laughed. “Fresh water, suitable to drink, I assure you. Here, take it.”

Alex knew he should not have listened, but his throat was on fire and he was struggling to breathe, let alone speak. Slowly, he reached out and took the bottle, uncorked it, and gulped the contents down. It really _was_ fresh, clean water.

He finished it to find Forrest’s smile had widened. “Good. As soon as you’ve regained strength, I will return you to your family.”

Alex stared. “Are you truly real?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to kill me?” Alex asked in a voice barely over a whisper. It was not a question any smart man would have asked, but Alex could not keep it quiet. _Are you going to kill me as you killed my mother?_

Forrest seemed to hear the silent question regardless and his smile faded, his gaze serious and piercing. “No. I certainly will not.”

Forrest disappeared beneath the water once more, and Alex was left staring at the surface where he had sunk. He pulled his blankets closer about himself.

When Alex woke again, he found a different merman watching him, Forrest standing beside him.

“Are you _certain_ he’s not wounded?”

“ _Yes_ , Forrest,” the merman said, exasperated, his skin adorned with green and gold scales, strands of his dark hair a grassy-shade of green as well. “I’m as certain as I was the first fifty times you asked. He’s exhausted, terrified, and he certainly _cannot_ stay here, but he’s sustained no injuries. Oh hello. I’m Kyle, pleasure to meet you.”

“Excuse him, Alex,” Forrest said, moving Kyle so that he was the one closest to Alex once again. “He gets terribly nervous around handsome people.”

Alex slowly pushed himself to sit, but his limbs were far too heavy, his head throbbing far too painfully. He fell back onto the rock, clinging desperately to his blankets, shuddering. He thought the chill that had left him earlier had gone for good, but the longer he stayed here, the more determined the cold air seemed to pierce his skin.

“I’ll bring you more blankets,” Forrest said hastily.

“Forrest, _look_ at him,” Kyle said reasonably. “He can’t stay here, he’s _human_. He needs a warmer climate than this. If we are,” he groaned, “ _still_ determined to return him, it best be at once.”

Forrest nodded solemnly as Kyle disappeared beneath the surface. Forrest reached a hand out to touch Alex, and this time, Alex could not find enough strength in himself to pull away as the merman’s hand settled on his. It was warmer than Alex might have expected it to be.

“Sleep now, Alex,” Forrest said gently. “We’ll go once you awaken.”

Alex closed his eyes, not knowing what Forrest could have meant, only that his touch was an odd comfort. When he awoke, Forrest was in the water, his back to Alex as he spoke to Maria and another mermaid who had white and gold scales, shining pearls braided into her blonde hair.

“The man,” the strange woman said, catching his eyes. “He’s awoken.”

Forrest looked over his shoulder and smiled at Alex. “I suppose it’s time, then. Have you two cleared the path already?”

Maria nodded. “No one will spot you, but you must hurry. Even if you help him breathe, humans cannot bear being so deep in the water.”

“Fragile things, aren’t they?” the strange woman said mildly.

“‘Fragile’ is hardly the word I would use,” Maria said appreciatively.

“All right,” Jenna rolled her eyes. “What of ‘dangerous,’ then? Are we really to return him? He could tell everyone aboard that ship what he has seen.”

“Please, Jenna, not now,” Forrest said. His dark eyes settled on Alex, his smile kind, and Alex had the fleeting memory of a warm hand on his. “Alex, are you ready to go home?”

Alex’s brows furrowed. His lungs ached. How long had he been asleep?

“Home?” he croaked.

“The shores of Saint-Suliac, no?” Forrest asked, and Alex sat up with a gasp.

A painful headache met him and he winced, clutching his head. “S-Saint Suliac? You can really take me back?”

“Of course,” Forrest said.

“But . . . how did you know?”

“Ah yes, well, I hope you can forgive my intrusion,” Forrest said, and from a sack that hung around his shoulder, he pulled out the bottle Alex had lost out at sea, the folded paper still inside, safe and dry. “I found this, and the name of the village is scribbled at the bottom of the picture, you see.”

“My painting!” Alex exclaimed and took the bottle, hugging it close. “Thank you. . . .”

A faint blush rose to Forrest’s cheeks. He cleared his throat. “Don’t thank me yet.”

Holding the neck of the bottle so tightly Alex feared his fingers would freeze that way, he asked quietly, “How could I possibly return home? I can’t breathe underwater.”

“I will help you with that,” Forrest said.

Alex’s shoulders sagged. “I do have to go in, then?”

The white-finned mermaid, Jenna, raised a brow. “You took a voyage and you’re _afraid of water?_ Where was the logic there?”

“That’s not helping,” Maria hissed, and smiled kindly to Alex. “I assure you, you will be completely safe with Forrest.”

“Come along, Alex,” Forrest put a hand out for him to take. “I will protect you.”

Alex considered this. He was weak, he could barely sit up without suffering pain, and the longer he stayed here, the more convinced he was that he would die of frost. He thought of Gregory, of Isobel, of Liz and the shop, and of Michael. He always thought of Michael.

With a heavy swallow, Alex shoved the bottle into his knapsack, beneath everything else so that he could not possibly lose it this time, and he slung his bag over his shoulders, tightening the straps so that it did not slip off. With a glance at Maria who was nodding encouragingly, and Jenna who seemed to wonder if he would really go through with it, Alex hesitantly and slowly moved towards the edge of the cavern floor and slid his trembling hand into Forrest’s.

Forrest’s warm fingers closed around his, and he gently tugged Alex forward until he could slide into the water. Alex gasped. The water was _freezing_ even more than the air above them, but Forrest’s arms came around Alex’s waist and pulled him close so that all Alex could feel was the warmth of the merman’s body.

Terrified, Alex wrapped his arms around Forrest’s shoulders. Forrest smiled.

“Ready?” he whispered, his breath fanning Alex’s lips.

Alex’s breaths were shallow and quick, whether because of the chill of the water, or his and Forrest’s proximity, or the fear of what he was about to do – he knew not, but he once again thought of Michael and nodded before he could change his mind.

Forrest’s smile widened and he pressed their foreheads together. “Hold on tight to me.”

And so Alex did. He shut his mouth as they sank beneath the surface. The cold might have killed him had he not been clinging to Forrest so desperately, his warmth keeping him safe. Alex felt Forrest touch his cheek and he opened his eyes to find their heads surrounded by a large bubble. Forrest brushed Alex’s lips with his fingers, as if signaling that it was all right to breathe.

Alex huffed, startled, and Forrest laughed. He looked down and saw Forrest’s blue fin, dusted with gold, moving effortlessly in the water. Maria was on their left, Jenna on their right. There were groups of silver fish swimming along, sea turtles and dolphins that stopped to watch the strange man swimming amongst them. Alex clung to Forrest with a gasp as a whale, larger than his entire building, swam past. It’s small eye fixed on Alex in similar alarm as it passed, but otherwise it did not interact with them at all. There was a moment when a long squid swam past and attempted to touch Alex’s arm with its tentacle. Alex hugged Forrest’s shoulders tightly, but the squid seemed only curious at Alex’s clothes. It swam away soon enough. All the while, Jenna and Maria were watching for other merpeople.

“Hold on,” Forrest whispered into his ear. “Not much longer now.”

True to his word, the water turned brighter around them and high above them, Alex spotted a light through the surface – the sun! As they approached it, Forrest slowed his pace, Maria and Jenna hung around them.

“Hold your breath,” Forrest said and Alex shut his mouth and eyes quickly. The bubble around him disappeared, and Alex felt the cold water hit his face and soak his hair. It lasted only a few second before they broke the surface and Alex deeply inhaled the warm breeze.

He opened his eyes and almost cried. It was the waves of Saint-Suliac. They were a small way from shore, behind a cluster of boulders.

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Forrest said quietly, and Alex realized then that they were far too close. He wanted to pull away but could not. He was almost neck-deep in the water, and call him foolish after the venture he’d had, but he remained anxious about being left alone in the ocean.

Forrest pulled them closer to the rocks. “Hold on to these boulders here, and as soon as I release you, use them to get closer to shore. Your feet should touch the sand not far from here. All right?”

Alex clenched his jaw and nodded. Forrest gently moved his wet bangs from his forehead, smiling at Alex with an unmistakable fondness.

“You’ve been so brave,” he whispered. “You know, I think you may be the most courageous man I have ever met. Mer or otherwise.”

As Alex shivered, he searched Forrest’s face for any sign of mockery or taunt. There was none.

“I will release you now,” Forrest said. “Are you ready?”

Alex nodded, salt water falling off his hair and the tip of his nose. He loosened his hold on Forrest’s shoulders, but a minute later, two, three, Forrest did not let go, and only stared at Alex’s face.

“Er – I’m ready,” he said awkwardly, an odd heat starting in his neck. Could that be the warmth of the sun?

Forrest blinked. “Oh yes, of course, sorry. There you go . . . hang on there. . . . All right?”

Alex nodded, his grip on the rocks tight. A breath –

“Forrest?” he said, and the merman poked his head out of the water hopefully. “Thank you for – er – everything. I want you to know I . . . I won’t tell anyone about you. Your secret is safe with me.”

Forrest smiled. He glided through the water until he and Alex were chest to chest, then he leaned in.

“As is yours,” he whispered before he pressed his lips in a soft kiss against Alex’s cheek.

Alex frowned, his heart hammering so loudly that he feared Forrest would hear it. But no sooner had Forrest pulled away than he sank beneath the water’s surface and was gone.

Alex waited a moment, expecting Forrest to poke his head again, but when he did not return, Alex swallowed, fixed the knapsack around his shoulders, and slowly made his way around the rocks. As he came into clear view of the shore to which he came every morning, he spotted his father’s ship docked at the harbor, and – to his surprise – Gregory, Jesse, Flint, and Isobel arguing on the sand. As he came closer, he heard Isobel’s frantic yells and realized she was sobbing.

Flint’s head was hanging low, but just as Gregory angrily reached for Jesse’s collar, Isobel and Alex caught one another’s eyes and she gasped, reaching instinctively for Gregory’s shoulder. He looked over, he and Alex saw each other, and Gregory released a shocked Flint, screaming his name.

Alex was now up to his waist in water, but his brother and sister didn’t seem to want to wait until he’d reached the shore, each of them quick to run into the water and catch Alex as he collapsed.

“Alex,” Gregory cried as he kissed the top of Alex’s head, his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “Oh my darling, you’re alive, oh thank god you’re alive!”

“Come here, come here,” Isobel kissed him in turn, her tears mingling with Alex’s own as she pressed her cheek to his.

“Alex!” Flint called, coming after them. “You’re alive!” He put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, unable to do more as Isobel was clinging to him protectively. “By god, man, how are you alive?!”

“I –” Alex tried and was halted by a fit of coughs.

“Yes, Alex, how?” Jesse pressed, his expression far from pleased and closer to suspicious once his shock was overcome. “How did you survive the storm?”

“I – er –”

“Was it the merpeople?” Jesse said. “Did they capture you? Did you escape them?”

Alex saw the wild look in his father’s eyes, and he knew then that, promise or no promise, he could not give any creature to the mercy of Jesse Manes.

“N-No, father, no!” he said. “I saw no merpeople!”

Jesse glared. “You’re lying,” he whispered. “Tell me what happened, _how are you still alive?_ ”

“I . . .” Alex coughed, sputtering salt water. “I . . .”

“It’s all right, love,” Gregory said, pushing Alex’s wet hair back from his face. “You don’t need to speak.”

“‘Doesn’t need to speak,’ are you _mental?!_ ” Jesse exclaimed. “He’s just survived a blasted storm, _days_ away from here!”

“Clearly with no help from you!” Gregory bit back. “What’d you do after he fell overboard? Cower in your chambers?”

As they argued, Alex thought hard about what he could say. How could he have survived without the help of the merpeople? Then it came to him. It was a wild thought, but it was all he could to keep his father’s suspicions at bay.

“How did you do it?” Jesse demanded. “HOW?!”

“Leave him alone!” Isobel pleaded. “Can’t you see he’s distressed?”

“Rope,” Alex breathed, and everyone looked to him. Alex slung the knapsack off his back and pulled out the long, soaked rope he’d brought with him. “I had tied myself to the ship in the event that I was to fall off board. I had caught a plank of wood that had fallen off the ship as well. I was dragged along behind you a good while, barely conscious. It was not far from here that my rope fell away from the ship. I gathered it in case I would need it again. I screamed, but no one heard. I swam until I spotted the shore.

“How could that be possible?” Flint asked, shaking his head, bewildered. “We checked the waters, we _searched_ for you!”

“I – er – was dragged beneath the ship quite a bit. I had to hold my breath for the longest time.” He turned to Gregory and the tears were no struggle to form. “I was terrified I would die at any moment.”

Gregory glared at Flint and Jesse with a clenched jaw. “Satisfied?” he demanded. “I believe he’s answered enough of your foolish questions.”

“But Gregory,” Flint tried, but Isobel came to stand in front of Alex, furious.

“That’s enough from you lot,” she snapped. “What’s it matter _how_ he survived? So long as he did! Come along, Alex, you’re burning up and your hands are freezing. We’ll have you warm at home.”

And she and Gregory helped him out of the water and to shore. As they led him away, Alex looked over his shoulder. Not at his brother and father, but at the waves, considering Forrest’s last words to him, and what on earth he could have meant.

Alex slept fitfully, tossing and turning in bed until he awoke in a cold sweat. For a moment, he thought the sheets pooled at his hips were waves, and he fought his way out of bed until his back hit the metal headboard.

“Alex, _Alex_ , it’s all right!” the room suddenly illuminated, revealing Gregory at Alex’s bedside, looking as if he had not slept a wink. Alex reached for him, and Gregory held him back just as tightly, muttering, “It’s all right, my love, I’m here,” into his hair.

Alex gripped Gregory’s shirt tightly, flashes of the waves in his mind’s eye, dragging him under, Michael’s ship sinking beneath. He turned his face into his brother’s chest.

“It’s so cold,” Alex croaked.

“I’ll bring you another blanket,” Gregory promised him. “It’ll be all right.”

Alex closed his eyes tight as they burned, willing the tears not to fall. He wanted Michael, he wanted to feel his warmth, he wanted to tell Michael what he had seen. Merpeople were real, an entirely new world that no one knew of, and it was a secret Alex could not share.

“You must have been so frightened,” Gregory said against his hair. “I will _murder_ Flint when I next see him. I will murder Michael as well. I’m certain Isobel will understand.”

Alex shook his head, a miserable laugh tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No, you cannot harm him,” he muttered, and felt Gregory’s arms around him tighten.

“God help me, your love will be the death of this family.” Alex said nothing, and Gregory pulled back enough to properly look at Alex’s face, moving his hair from his eyes. “What is this secret you always seem to carry, the one that weighs so heavily on your shoulders. Will you never tell me?”

Secret.

_As is yours._

Alex wiped his face with his hands, forcing his breaths deeper and slower. With a final, deep sigh, he let his shoulders fall and croaked, “I’m all right. Return to bed, brother.”

Gregory frowned. “How can I leave you? No, I will stay here.”

“But Isobel –”

“Isobel and I agreed that you needed me far more,” Gregory insisted, and Alex felt his eyes burn again. He rubbed them painfully, and moved to sit against the wall, making room on his bed for his brother.

Gregory sat down beside him, but Alex could not fall asleep again. His mind was riddled with thoughts of the water, of the people beneath the water, what they must be doing now. Were they talking about him? Did they still remember him? Did Forrest? Or was he merely glad to know that Alex could not trouble them with his presence any longer?

Gregory drifted off to sleep with his hand on Alex’s head, as if reassuring himself that his younger brother was beside him and safe and not lost at sea. But Alex could not sleep again, not only for fear of what was to visit him once again in his dreams, but for the faint, echoed touch of the merman Forrest’s lips to his cheek, his hold on Alex’s waist tight and reassuring and _warmer_ than Alex would have assumed it to be. Merpeople were warm. But who could he tell?

The sky outside Alex’s window lightened, and as a flock of gulls flew across and sailors’ voices began to sound in the distance, Alex knew it was the proper time to get up. He carefully removed himself from bed so as not to wake Gregory, washed his face, dressed, and stepped into the small kitchen of their home to find Isobel standing at the stove, the smell of eggs, bread, and sausages wafting throughout the small flat.

“Good morning,” Alex said, his throat still sore and his head still spinning, but he mustered the most convincing smile he could as he took a seat at the breakfast table.

“Good morning, my beautiful,” Isobel said, and, still carrying the wooden spoon, crossed the kitchen to plant a kiss against Alex’s temple before returning to her pots and pans. “The rest of the food will be ready in just a moment, but the bread rolls are ready now. Why don’t you start eating?”

Alex raised a brow. “You never let me eat until we’re all seated.”

“Yes, well, it’s different now, isn’t it?”

“How is it different?”

Isobel looked over her shoulder at Alex, as Gregory had, as if to assure herself that he was still alive. Alex was beginning to feel slightly irritated with the attention.

“You’ve been through a great ordeal, and you hurried off to bed yesterday after we’d brought you back. I only thought you might be too hungry to wait.”

“You always said hunger is the best ingredient.”

Isobel snapped. “Are you going to quote me all morning?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said with the same edge in his voice. “Are you going to fear for my life all morning?”

Isobel deflated, gripping the spoon tightly with both hands. Horrifically, she looked as if she might burst into tears and was refraining solely by force of will. Alex felt guilt lurch in his stomach.

“You were gone for hours,” she whispered. “We kept waiting for you to walk off the ship and you never did. We feared you were lost forever. Can’t you understand?”

Alex sighed. “I apologize, sister. I woke to a nightmare last night. The ocean, it . . .” he shook his head, unable to continue and not knowing what to say if he could. “I have not been able to sleep since. I hope you will forgive my behavior.”

Isobel’s expression seemed to sadden all the more and she came to sit across from Alex, covering his hand with her own. Her touch was warm from working by the fire all morning. Alex was uncomfortably reminded of Forrest.

“All that matters is that you are here and safe with us again, the people who _truly_ love you,” Isobel said, and for a moment, she looked as if she wanted to say something else, but was hesitant to do so.

Alex’s brows furrowed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Isobel opened her mouth, then closed it again, then opened it once more. “Alex . . . you should know –”

“Good morning,” Gregory said with a yawn as he walked in. He pecked Isobel’s lips and kissed the top of Alex’s head. “All right, brother?”

Alex hummed, his eyes on Isobel who, at the sight of her husband, turned silent. Alex thought of the other rare times Isobel had refrained from talking in front of Gregory, and could think of only two occasions. Both to do with Michael.

He wondered if Isobel had wanted to ask him about Michael, whether or not Alex would be writing to him to tell him what had happened. Alex was suddenly glad not to have heard his sister’s inquiries, for he had not yet considered that answer himself.

_Had_ he done anything worth writing about? Had he conquered his fear of the water as he had intended? Alex could not say, but he hardly thought a frightening dream of drowning was worth mentioning to Michael. With the village waking now and the sky bright, the dream seemed so far away, and Alex realized he could not answer these questions like this, not here. He would have to return to the shore and see for himself if the waves still frightened him or not. The idea left his heart as heavy as a boulder.

Alex was so lost in his own thoughts that he only heard the end of Isobel and Gregory’s conversation.

“. . . when Liz and Rosa arrive.”

“Liz and Rosa are coming?” Alex asked.

“Oh yes, I wrote to them yesterday,” Isobel said. “Liz was eager to know what became of your voyage.” She mustered a smile as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Of course, she wanted to come see you last night, but I told her there was no use for it as you were already asleep.”

A knock suddenly came at the door, hard and fast. Gregory had no sooner opened than Alex heard Liz’s voice call, “WHERE IS HE?!”

Alex stood just as Liz came running in, pulling Rosa along. “You idiot!” she exclaimed, but before Alex could respond, she threw her arms around his shoulders and held him in a tight embrace. “You bloody idiot, you _moron_!” she whispered fiercely into his shoulder, and Alex could hear her voice crack.

When she pulled away, her eyes were red but dry. “I told you that voyage was foolish, I told you not to go, I _told_ you it would be dangerous!”

“Had you?” was all Alex could say in response to her trembling fingers on his arms.

“Oh hush you!” she slapped his shoulder. “If you had drowned, I would have brought you back to life just to kill you myself!”

“It’s true,” Rosa agreed with a sigh. “She had been pacing all of yesterday, plotting your murder. It was a very frightening reality to consider, I must confess. Terribly glad to see you alive, however!”

Rosa freed Alex from Liz’s hold and embraced him herself. “I don’t mean to offend you, my friend, I am happy to see you breathing, but I am positively famished. D’you have any food?”

“Rosa!” Liz scolded.

“What, I was dragged out of bed in the dead of morning, I want to eat!”

“Breakfast is ready to be served,” Isobel said kindly, avoiding Liz’s eyes which seemed to be looking to glare at her. “If you’d like to join us?”

“No, thank you,” Liz said coldly. “Had any other visitors this morning?”

Alex raised a brow. “Who on earth would be coming to visit us? How many people do you think we know?”

Liz looked to Isobel, her tone as cruel as ever. “That’s a no, then. Well, we only came to check on Alex, we have a lot of work to do at home this morning, you know. Don’t we, Rosa?”

“I’d like to stay, if that’s all right,” Rosa sat next to Alex, completely ignoring her sister’s fiery gaze.

“Certainly,” Isobel said, and she and Liz turned away from each other with a _hmph!_

Once Liz was gone, Isobel slapped the pan down on the stove with a loud _CLANK!_

“ _Well_ ,” she said, indignant, “she really should have stayed to eat. It’s _rude_ not to accept an invitation to breakfast when you’re already here, you know!”

“I think she had a prior engagement planned,” Rosa said distractedly, already reaching for her third bread roll, stuffing almost the whole thing into her mouth at once. “Viv your brovver,” she said, muffled.

Isobel blinked. “With _Max_ , you mean? She’s giving me dagger eyes because of Michael and yet she goes off for a chat with Max?”

“A scolding, more like it,” Rosa swallowed. “He left roses last night on our doorstep for her. She’s really irritated. It’s actually quite funny.”

“Roses,” Isobel said faintly. “Goodness, I told him Liz Ortecho does not appreciate such gestures, not from him!”

“Does she honestly intend to avoid him forever?” Alex asked, tearing thoughtlessly at his own bread roll, the cool breeze coming in through the window smelling of ocean and pinching his heart in a way he could not understand.

“She does seem to be trying her mightiest, does she not – oh thank you!” Rosa said happily as Isobel placed a plate of eggs, beans, ham, and a large croissant in front of her. “At any rate, I can hardly convince her to give him a chance, can I? Not after Michael . . .”

Alex stop picking at his food. The silence that followed almost weighted down the table. Alex looked up and found his brother and sister watching worriedly for his reaction, and Rosa was staring with wide eyes as if having just realized what she’d said and feared it would kill Alex. He mustered a smile to his lips.

“What’s happened to all of you?” Alex said, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice. “Surely you can say his name, I won’t burst into tears, I promise you. Honestly.”

The atmosphere at the table seemed to brighten immensely as Gregory moved the conversation to the first new printing press opening in the village, not far from where they were now. Alex ate and laughed along, all the while wondering if Michael had gotten word that he had gone out on a voyage. If he’d known what Alex had endured to be beside him.

_Hardly matters_ , Alex thought. _What I attempted means nothing if I did not succeed._

And so when Alex had finished with his meal and helped clean the kitchen, he excused himself for a stroll about the town.

“D’you want me to come with you?” Gregory asked.

“No, no, I need to be on my own a bit,” Alex said. In truth, he would have preferred to have someone accompany him to the shore, but if Gregory discovered _that_ was where he was headed after yesterday’s fright, he feared his brother would sooner lock him in his room and throw away the key than allow him to leave.

Gregory seemed to sense some of these thoughts for his gaze turned suspicious. “Alex . . . surely you’re not going to see the ocean?”

A cold chill rose up Alex’s spine at the mere mention of the water. He detested his cowardice.

“Me?” he forced a chuckle, though it came out shaking. “After all that’s happened? I’m not so brave.”

And with a tip of his hat, Alex left the flat, left the bakery, and made his usual way down the road that led to the shore.

Alex could not come close to the waves. He wore his shoes, yet he could feel the sand as if he were standing barefoot. Every time the water came closer, Alex felt as if they were going to chase him down, and when they receded, his heart fluttered with relief.

He had managed to stay on his feet for a long moment before he fell to the sand, his head in his hands.

“No, no, no,” he groaned. “It’s gotten worse, _how_ has it gotten worse?”

But of course, Alex knew how. He had seen the merpeople, their faces, their fins. He had swam through the depths of the waters in the arms of one. He knew the merman who had helped him could not have been evil, not someone so kind . . . and yet . . .

His mother had been taken from them, and while Alex attempted to push that concern to the back of his mind, he could not help but wonder now, when faced with the ocean, if all this while their father’s paranoid fears were justified after all, for not all the merpeople had been eager to help Alex. What if one, or a few, or even _most_ of them had seen Alex’s mother drowning and pulled her down? What if they _were_ indeed responsible for her death?

“But I gave my word,” Alex muttered to himself. “I would not reveal their existence. I cannot betray them.” He could not say why, but he _knew_ he could not do it.

He heard the waves crashing into the shore, the gulls flying above, drowning out the people’s chatter in the streets far behind him as he hid his face in his knees, hugging his legs so tightly that his arms ached.

“What am I go to do?” he whispered miserably, hoping someone would give him the answer. For a long moment, no one did. Then –

“Alex,” a voice called softly. _“Alex!”_

Alex looked up, brows furrowed. He looked around and found no one he knew standing on the shore. Then he realized the call was coming, not from the road or the sand, but from the water. It was Forrest, standing waist-deep in the ocean. He was behind a cluster of small rocks, waving his hand to Alex.

Alex’s eyes widened. Horrendously, he thought he might faint.

“That’s not possible,” he murmured as Forrest, who was very inconveniently ignoring the fact that he was not meant to exist, waved with both arms now, his grin wide.

Alex stood numbly, staring ahead as Forrest made his way to the shore. “Forrest? It can’t be…”

Two things occurred to Alex as the merman approached him. The first was that his fin and scales were gone; even his blue hair had turned dark brown, though there remained a bit of blue and gold shimmering dust along his arms, chest, and shoulders. The only thing of their first encounter that really remained was the seashell necklace against his collarbone.

The second, and quite frankly the most shocking, was that Forrest was completely and utterly nude.

“Stop,” Alex said, then, raising his voice and looking away, yelled, “stop, stop, STOP!”

Forrest stilled, the waves rising and falling around his hips so often that Alex had to keep his eyes averted. He could not see the way Forrest smiled at him, the way Forrest’s arms reached for him as he had perhaps expected Alex to run into his embrace upon seeing him.

“What troubles you?” Forrest called, and Alex glanced around, hoping no one else could see them out here. No one could.

“You’re without clothing!” Alex called back.

Forrest seemed to consider this, then he knelt in the waves until the water had reached his neck again.

Alex hesitated, then stepped closer to the water, keeping a safe distance from the waves so that they could not touch him.

He shook his head as he crouched. “What’re you doing here? _How_ can you be here?”

Forrest raked a hand through his soaked hair. “Every merperson can change to human form.”

_“Human?”_ Alex attempted to reach for him, but as the water neared him, he had to stand back. Forrest followed his movements, his grin softening.

“Still afraid of the water, then?”

Alex blushed, but did not answer. “Why . . . why are you here?”

Forrest tilted his head, and Alex did not know if it was because of the sun, or another reason entirely, but the merman’s own cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “To be with you.”

Alex stilled. _“Me?”_

“Yes,” Forrest said, floating closer to Alex along the water. _“You.”_

“Stop, stop,” Alex said again as the water fell below Forrest’s chest. He shook his head. “Y-You cannot stay here. My father has spent years looking for your kind, and I only just managed to lie about what it was that saved me. If you come out, you will be in danger.”

For a moment, at the mention of Jesse Manes, Forrest’s expression darkened, but as Alex blinked, the shadows were gone and Forrest shrugged indifferently. “Your father does not frighten me, Alex.”

“Turn back,” Alex insisted.

_“No.”_

“ _Please_ turn back!”

“I shan’t!”

“And stop laughing!”

“I cannot,” Forrest smiled fondly. “For your concern for me is far too precious.”

“Cease such talk at once!” Alex demanded, though his voice trembled and he felt a heat crawl up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “We are strangers to one another, it is highly inappropriate!”

“I believe we crossed such boundaries long ago, don’t you?” Forrest smirked. Alex looked away, unwilling and unable to concede. “And at any rate, I cannot return, not for three days.”

Alex sat down. “Three days?”

“By sunset,” Forrest confirmed. “The magic can only last so long.”

“But why?”

“I cannot say,” he shrugged. “The transformation never lasts for longer than that, after which we cannot set foot outside the water for several months. It’s far too exhausting. All I know for certain is that I wished to see you more than anything. And so I have come. Will you not accept me?”

“Accept you?” Alex shook his head. “Forrest, I . . . I cannot bear setting foot in the water. What use will I be to you?”

Forrest raised an eyebrow. “But, my dear Alex, you are sitting in the water right now.”

Alex frowned. He was only about to tell Forrest that he was incorrect when he looked down and suddenly understood what that cold feeling around his legs was. He stumbled back, kicking sand and water everywhere.

He was left panting on all fours, all the while Forrest watching him.

“Are you all right?” Forrest asked, and Alex forced himself to his feet.

He was trembling, but he was, he had to confess, unharmed. The water had touched him and had not pulled him in. Alex saw Forrest stare at him, as if transfixed, and he thought of the way Forrest had pulled him from the depths of the ocean, had argued to protect him.

Alex did not know what to make of this merman’s attention, of the way he regarded Alex as if he were the most valuable treasure that could ever be, nor did he know what to make of his intentions, for he had never met anyone so forward with their desires and wishes.

But Forrest had helped him when he thought all was lost, he had retrieved the painting of Michael’s ship, even if such a picture may have been deemed worthless to anybody else. Forrest had done him a great service in returning Alex’s hope to him, his reason for living. Alex could not deny him this now.

He straightened and huffed. “You will need clothing. You must stay hidden until I’ve returned, for I cannot think what others will do to you if they find you in such a state. Can you wait for me here?”

Forrest’s smile lit his whole expression. “I will wait for you for forever.”

Alex flushed. “You don’t have forever!” he snapped. “You only just told me, or have you forgotten the rules of your own magic already?”

Without waiting for an answer, Alex turned and ran up the shore, up the stone steps leading to the roads, up the streets, and into the bakery.

“Alex?” Gregory called after his brother when he’d run past an old man purchasing something at the counter. “Why on earth are you drenched? You haven’t been at the shore again, have you?!”

“Sorry, can’t stop,” Alex said hastily as he ran to the door in the back, wrenched it open, and made his way upstairs.

“Alex?” Isobel called as she stepped out from the restroom. “What’re you doing? Why are you wet?”

“Sorry, Isobel, I’m in a hurry!”

Alex opened his closet doors, and grabbed any shirt, coat, and trousers. He considered a pair of britches before grabbing them as well.

He bundled the clothes tightly in his arms before he rushed to the door, down the stairs, out the bakery, and down to the shore. When he arrived, Forrest was nowhere to be seen.

Alex looked around, breathing heavily, a painful stitch in his side. “Forrest?” he called. “Forrest, where are you?” He huffed, pushing his damp hair back from his eyes, the shirt in his arms almost falling onto the sand. _I couldn’t have only imagined him, could I?_

“Alex,” Forrest rose from the water’s depths, waving a hand to Alex. The water glistened off his naked body like drops of sunlight. Alex shook the thought from his head and came as close as possible.

“Can you still breathe underwater?” Alex asked.

“No,” Forrest said. “It’s quite an experience. You really should try it.”

Alex swallowed. “Er – later perhaps. I’ve brought you some clothes. Will you be all right wearing trousers?”

“I must be, mustn’t I?” Forrest said and came out of the water. Alex turned around, making certain they were not being watched as he felt Forrest’s hand take the clothes from him, his naked arm coming around Alex’s waist. “What are these?” he said, holding up one particular article.

Alex did his very best not to let his eyes wander towards Forrest’s naked shoulder, his naked chest, his naked –

“B-Britches,” he stammered and cleared his throat. “Put them on quickly, and stay behind me.”

“Certainly,” Forrest said, amusement coloring his tone, his breath tickling the nape of Alex’s neck.

Alex gasped and stepped away. “Not so close!” Forrest laughed, and Alex covered his face with his hands, mortified. “Hurry, will you?”

Alex was met with no response for a long moment, then he felt Forrest touch his shoulder. He turned and for a pause said nothing. Forrest was fixing his sleeve, but Alex was drawn to the cream-colored shirt and gold coat against his darker skin. Strands of his dark brown hair fell over his eyes, and among the strands, Alex could spot honey-colored locks. Forrest’s cheeks were rosy due to the sun, and his dark eyes glinted with gold as they looked up at Alex, amused.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“Nothing,” Alex said a little too quickly. The water began to soak through Forrest’s clothing and Alex supposed he should have brought him a towel to dry himself first. When he said this, Forrest shook his head.

“Fear not,” he said. “The water hardly bothers me.”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Yes, of course.” Alex was relieved that the weather was warm so there was no chance of Forrest catching a cold.

“It’s a terribly odd feeling,” Forrest said, hugging his arms, his fingers running over the fabric of his sleeves. “You never quite get used to it.”

“No, I don’t imagine you do,” Alex said for the lack of anything else.

Forrest, however, seemed eager to speak. He stepped closer to Alex, taking his face suddenly in his hands. “I cannot believe I am here with you. I waited all of yesterday to see you again, and all of this morning – _goodness_ , these trousers feel odd. Of all the years I’ve worn them, I _still_ cannot grow accustomed to them.”

“Yes, must be odd indeed,” Alex said faintly, stepping out of Forrest’s hold, engulfed in Forrest’s ocean breeze scent. “Er – so . . . what would you like to do now?”

“Anything,” Forrest shrugged. “So long as it is with you.”

Alex gaped. _“That’s it?_ You risked coming here –”

“Against my friends’ wishes,” he added cheerfully.

“—to see me and nothing more? You’ve got no plan?”

“I suppose I could wait here until my three days have finished,” Forrest said. “But I would much rather follow you.”

“Goodness,” Alex muttered weakly. “You cannot be real.”

“I said the same thing of you!” he said and took Alex’s hand. “For no beauty can truly exist in this or any other world.”

“This must be a trick,” Alex said and pulled his hand out of Forrest’s hold. “No man speaks this way!”

“I am no ordinary man,” Forrest said, and dusted some of the gold and blue shimmering dust off his jaw.

“Clearly,” Alex said. He had scolded Forrest for not thinking his ideas through, yet even now, Alex did not know how to follow. Where would Forrest stay? Surely not with him! It was improper and undignified and – and . . . they were not married nor to be engaged nor even together!

Yet if Forrest stayed with him as a friend, nothing more . . .

_GROWWWWWWL!_

Alex blinked. “What on earth was _that_?”

Forrest put a hand on his stomach as it growled again, and Alex blinked. “I’m famished.”

“Merpeople get hungry?” Alex asked and flushed as soon as the question left his lips. Forrest smiled as if Alex was so very adorable for asking. _Fool_ , he thought. _Of course merpeople get hungry,_ all _creatures get hungry!_

“What do you usually eat?” he asked instead.

“Fish, seaweed,” Forrest shrugged. “About it, really.”

Alex considered this. “Can you have human food?”

“I suppose?” Forrest said. “Never really tried it much.”

“Come along, then,” Alex said, and turned towards the stone staircase at the far left. “I know where to take you.”

“All right,” Forrest barely managed before he stumbled and fell.

“Forrest!” he knelt at his side. “Are you all right?”

“Quite,” Forrest said. “I have not walked along a shore in a very long time, you see.”

Alex pursed his lips, thinking hard. He sighed. “Nothing else for it, I suppose.” He held out an arm, and Forrest held onto it, keeping steady against Alex’s side. Alex tried not to look at Forrest whose face was very close to his own. “A-All right?”

“All right,” Forrest replied softly, and Alex cleared his throat and nodded before leading them off the shore.

“Goodness,” Forrest breathed as they walked along the street. “There are so many people here. How do you all fit?”

Alex huffed a chuckle despite himself. “Not many merpeople in the ocean, I gather?”

“Certainly there are,” Forrest said. “But the ocean is much larger than the land you inhabit.”

“Yes,” Alex’s smile dimmed as he thought of the wide, endless, dark waters. He did his best not to think of what may have been lurking in the shadows. “I’m certain it is.”

Forrest must have known his thoughts because he held Alex’s arm tighter and said, “The seas are not so frightening. I would never allow you to fall into harm’s way.”

Alex shook his head, muttering, “I’ve already told you not to talk like that anymore.”

“Is it all complements that turn your face so red?” Forrest asked, lightly touching two of his fingers to Alex’s cheek. “Or only mine?”

“I am not flustered,” Alex lied. “I am merely sensitive to the sun.”

“I see,” Forrest said, and despite his hand on his arm, he moved a distance away from Alex. When Alex glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he saw him staring ahead with a tug at his lips, as if amused.

When they reached the bakery, Forrest pulled Alex to a stop, his eyes wide on the display case. “Is – Is that food?” he asked, pointing at a plate of chocolate biscuits and small cakes with strawberries, eclairs with custard, and vanilla-frosted crepes.

Alex raised a brow. “Have you never tasted cake before?”

_“Cake?”_ Forrest stared. “I don’t remember. But I am certain I’ve never had anything that looks like _that_.”

Alex laughed, his heart stuttering in his chest at Forrest’s excitement. “Come on then.”

The moment they walked into the bakery, they were stopped by Isobel, her hands on her hips and her face and apron covered in chocolate batter.

“Where have you _been?”_ she demanded. “Off to the shore again, were you? Do you honestly _want_ Liz to lecture me?”

Alex glanced at Forrest, thinking quickly. “I only went to meet my friend. You – er – remember Forrest, don’t you?”

“Forrest?” Isobel’s eyes flitted to him and she blinked, as if having just noticed he was there. “No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“There you are, Alex,” Gregory huffed as the costumer he was assisting finally left. “Don’t tell me you want to . . . oh hello,” he said and his eyes fell to Forrest and Alex’s linked arms. “Alex, who is this?”

“Honestly,” Alex mustered a chuckle, though it sounded weak to his own ears. “Must you jest like this? Surely you know who Forrest is?” When neither Gregory nor Isobel said anything, Alex pressed, “I spoke of him all the time!”

Gregory fixed Alex with narrowed eyes. “Alex, what’s going on? Who is this?”

“Forrest!”

“Who’s Forrest?” Isobel demanded. “You never told us of any Forrest!”

“Haven’t you?” Forrest played along, bringing an arm around Alex’s waist. “My dear Alex, I’m terribly insulted.”

“There, you see?” Alex said, silently proud of his ability to keep his voice steady. “Now you’ve embarrassed me in front of my dear friend. I told you I’ve been writing to him for months! Haven’t you noticed that I’m always waiting for his letters?”

At this, Isobel frowned. “ _Forrest_ is the one you’ve been asking about? Not . . .”

“Not _who_?” Alex demanded, knowing that an implication of Michael would cease all discussions at once.

He had been correct; Isobel and Gregory did not seem to want to say.

Alex sighed, shaking his head for dramatic effect. He felt guilt lurch in his stomach, but it was far better than explaining the alternative; there was a merman who wanted to spend his few days as a human with him.

No. This would raise far less questions.

“It’s wonderful to know – it _really_ is – that the people who claim to love me would rather see me miserable than _listen_ when I am happy. Forrest has come to spend the next few days with us, and I had hoped he would receive a kinder welcome than this.”

Gregory’s shoulders fell and both he and Isobel looked remorseful. Alex clenched his jaw. It would only last a moment, he had to remind himself, and then no one would question Forrest. That had to be his priority.

“Terribly sorry,” Gregory said to Forrest. “D’you know – er – now that I think about it, I _do_ remember Alex mentioning you.”

“Y-Yes!” Isobel added, holding her hand out for Forrest to take. “ _Forrest!_ It’s all coming back to me now. Forgive us; a long morning’s work has left us a bit slow, I’m afraid.”

“Of course you are welcome to spend your vacation here,” Gregory said. “We have a spare room that will be glad for your company.”

“Oh no,” Forrest said. “I want to stay with Alex –”

Alex covered Forrest’s mouth with his hand and laughed nervously. “Oh Forrest, always making such jests. Funny, isn’t he?”

“Indeed,” Isobel chuckled along, her brows furrowed. “At any rate, it is a pleasure to meet you, Forrest . . .” she trailed off, waiting for Forrest to give her his family name.

But one look at Forrest confessed to Alex that he did not have one. Alex looked around the shop frantically, thinking very hard. Finally, his eyes fell on a display of pastries behind Gregory with a small sign that read; _Strawberry Long-Cakes._

“L-Long!” he said. “Forrest Long is – is his name. Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Forrest said, his grin wide and unbothered. “Yes, it is.”

“Forrest Long,” Isobel nodded. “Lovely name, really. Er – are you hungry?”

“He is,” Alex said. “We’ll take a table here, don’t mind us, and then . . . he would like to see the village. Wouldn’t you?”

Forrest tore his eyes away from the large chocolate cake on the counter. “Oh yes! Yes, that sounds wonderful! Please!”

Gregory huffed a chuckle, clearly relieved that all was well between them again. “I see you like cake. I’ll bring you both a few plates. Go sit, Alex, you best rest while you can.”

Alex nodded as Isobel touched his hair, and they went to find a table.

“Rest?” Forrest asked when they were alone. “Are you all right?”

Alex nodded. “It’s regarding the – er – _events_ of yesterday. I’m all right, unharmed, as you know, but . . .”

“It was a lot to take in,” Forrest finished, and Alex looked up. He shrugged a shoulder, his smile gentle. “You are not a fool, Alex, nor are you weak. I would be concerned if you had accepted our existence without question. I only hope it has not cost you sleep.” When Alex said nothing, Forrest’s smile fell away completely.

Forrest ducked his head, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Alex asked. “Saving my life? I am indebted to you, Forrest.”

“I don’t want you to be indebted,” Forrest said without hesitation. “I want you to be mine.”

Alex blinked, startled. “I . . . er . . .”

“There you are,” Gregory said, setting two plates of chocolate cake with a side of vanilla frosted biscuits. “Enjoy. Let me know if you’d like anything else.”

“Thank you,” said Alex and Forrest at once, and Forrest looked at the pastries as if not knowing how to approach them.

Alex could not help but smile. “Here,” he picked up his own small fork and encouraged Forrest to do the same. He cut a small piece of his own cake, but when Forrest attempted it, he dropped the piece back onto the plate. Try as he might, he could not pick it up, and the more he tried, the more it crumbled.

Alex laughed. “Here, here, let me,” and he held out his forkful next to Forrest lips. Forrest looked between the cake and Alex’s face, as if waiting to be mocked, but when he saw that Alex was genuine, his cheeks turned a deep shade of red.

“Tell me,” Alex said in the same tone Forrest had used earlier, “does everyone’s offering of pastries fluster you, or only mine?”

“Only yours,” Forrest said, and, before Alex could be startled, closed his mouth around the fork. His eyes fluttered shut as he chewed and Alex could not help but laugh as he eagerly jumped in his seat and moved his chair closer to Alex’s for another bite.

Alex fed him until both their cakes were gone, and when Forrest was told that he could eat the biscuits with his hands, he carefully picked one up and swallowed it whole until those were all gone as well. Alex was left laughing in his seat. He spotted Gregory watching him, and wondered why his brother looked so amused himself.

“I haven’t seen you smile so much in a long time,” Gregory muttered discreetly after calling him to the counter.

“What’re you talking about?” Alex scoffed. “I’ve always been like this. Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

“This friend,” Gregory gestured at Forrest with his chin. “He’s very handsome.”

“Is he?” Alex cleared his throat. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Very kind as well,” Gregory went on. “Seems to fancy you.”

“He’s honest,” Alex shrugged. “Blatantly so. But he is a . . . free spirit.”

“Alex,” Gregory sighed, smiling in that exasperated sort of way. “He _likes_ you.”

“He does not know me well enough to like me,” Alex said, his heart racing at the idea. _And at any rate,_ Alex reminded himself in secret, _I like Michael. It’s_ him _who I want to be with. It’s_ him _who –_

“Alex, come look at this!” Forrest called from inside the kitchens where Isobel was laughing. “Your sister was just telling me how they put the custard _inside_ the pastry! It’s remarkable!”

Alex tried very hard to show Forrest the village, but every so often, he would glance over and find Forrest staring blatantly at his face as if it were far more interesting. Finally, Alex was forced to take Forrest’s chin and steer his eyes away. More and more, Forrest seemed more at his ease with his legs, yet he held onto Alex regardless. Alex simply forgot to tell him to let go.

“You can always smell the ocean,” Forrest noted as they crossed two narrow roads and went further into the village. “It’s lovely.”

“I think that scent may be you,” Alex said before he could help himself.

“What was that?”

“N-Nothing!”

“Mornin’, Alex!” Mr. Higgins called as they passed his stand at the market, the large fish once again staring up at Alex with large, dead eyes. Alex cleared his throat and attempted to avoid its gaze. “Who’s your friend there?”

Forrest, however, could not respond. He was staring at a squid splayed on ice, his brows furrowed slightly as if he recognized the creature.

“Forrest Long,” Alex answered for him. “He’s my friend, he’s come to stay with me a few days.”

“Ooh? A friend?” Mrs. Valenti, a smaller woman with black hair and eyes, peered over from the stand beside them, her boxes filled with the most vibrant of vegetables. Her grin widened as she took in Forrest’s appearance. “What a handsome fellow he is, too! Isn’t that right, Mr. Higgins?”

She nudged the old man and he chuckled goodheartedly. “Eh? Yes, yes, very handsome face, very handsome.”

“And where is he visiting from, if I may ask?”

Alex thought quickly. “Er – Paris.”

Mrs. Valenti gushed. “Is he _really?_ My, how exciting! It must be so grand compared to our village, eh, Forrest?”

Forrest pointed suddenly at the boxes of fish. “Pray tell, sir, how many coins are all of these boxes together?”

Mr. Higgins’s eyes widened. “ _All_ of them? My dear boy, how much could you possibly eat in a day?”

“Call me curious,” Forrest said vaguely. “If you please.”

“What’re you doing?” Alex whispered frantically in his ear. Forrest covered Alex’s hand on his arm with his own, his eyes still on the fish.

It then occurred to Alex that Forrest may be angry or distressed at seeing creatures so similar to himself on display like this, their cold dead eyes staring up into nothingness, condemned to either being someone’s dinner or waste if they were not sold within the day.

“Well, I suppose if you’d really like to know,” Mr. Higgins scratched his jaw. “All together, they would be . . . fifty pounds? Perhaps?”

Forrest’s expression was unreadable, but there was disappointment evident in his tone when he said, “I see.”

“Well, it all depends on the catch of the day, m’boy!” Mr. Higgins explained. “When there are more fish to sell, the price rises. When there are less, it is less. Understand?”

“Oh yes,” Forrest smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “I think I do.”

“Such a lovely smile,” Mrs. Valenti was still admiring him fondly. “I must say, Alex, you two make a very handsome pair.”

Alex blushed and may have told Mrs. Valenti just how wrong she was, but the glint returned to Forrest’s eyes and Alex could not find the will to argue.

“Do we really?”

“Oh yes, terribly handsome!” Mrs. Valenti gushed. “Do they not, Mr. Higgins?”

“Yes, yes,” he chuckled. “Most handsome.”

“Thank you,” Alex tugged on Forrest’s arm to move him along, “but we must be on our way now. I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day!” he called over his shoulder and sighed when they were out of earshot. “Goodness, will the whole of France insist on interfering in my personal affairs?”

Forrest did not answer, appearing to be deep in thought. He hesitated before he asked, “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Alex struggled to find the words. “Er – it’s only – well –”

Forrest smirked. “Ah. Concerned I may fall into a destructive rage after witnessing my kind lying dead in a crate, waiting to be purchased?”

Alex searched his face. “ _Are_ you all right?”

Forrest faltered. “Are you afraid of me, Alex?”

Alex considered his answer. _I can always lie_ , he thought. _Anything to keep him calm and happy during his stay so that this entire nightmare passes without a problem._ But as Forrest’s eyes bore into his, the dark brown glistening with the slightest trace of gold as if the magic of his people still existed within him, Alex could not find anything but the truth to give.

“I do not know what I feel,” he confessed quietly. “My father has spent his life searching for your kind –”

“Hunting us, you mean,” Forrest cut in with the smallest of smiles.

“Yes.” Alex paused. “In truth, he has been a terribly disturbed man since the death of my mother. He loved her very dearly, you see.”

“Will you tell me . . . how it happened?” Forrest asked softly. “Her death?”

Alex hesitated. He had never spoken of the events that he had been told of, not even to Michael. _But then,_ a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, _Michael had never asked._

“It is not a very long story. They were out at sea, my parents,” Alex said as they walked, feeling every bit the way Forrest’s hands tightened on his arm. “It was a clear day, not so much as a cloud in the sky. They loved sailing, adventuring, my mother especially. She was a very brave woman.” Alex took a deep breath. “My mother then fell over the edge of the ship after having spotted a creature – er” – he glanced at Forrest and flushed – “undoubtedly a whale or dolphin or something of the sort. They lowered the anchors at once and it caught my mother as it fell, killing her instantly.”

Forrest’s expression was again unreadable, although something in his eyes darkened. “And that is what your father told you happened? Was there anyone else on board?”

“Only my brother Clay,” Alex said. “To be honest, it was him who had given us that truth, and the rest of the crew confirmed it. Father, however, swore that it was merpeople who had dragged her to the depths and killed her when she had tried to fight back.”

“And you?” Forrest asked. “What do you believe?”

Alex shook his head. “I . . . believe . . .” he sighed. _Say what is in your heart._ “I believe you are good. I believe that I . . . _want_ you to be good. I cannot pass judgement on all the merpeople, Forrest, for I do not know them all. Can you not be enough?”

Forrest was grinning. “I would very much like to kiss you now.”

Alex’s eyes widened and he stared adamantly ahead, trying very hard to ignore Forrest’s staring. “Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat.

“Oh, look at _that_!” Forrest said suddenly and Alex followed his gaze. It was Liz’s dress shop, dresses and suits that she, Alex, and – on occasion – Rosa had tailored on full display. Dresses of floral prints, gold thread, soft silk, pearls and beads and seashells even. Forrest attempted to touch one, but the glass wall kept him at bay.

Alex almost began to laugh, but then he spotted Liz inside, doing paperwork. She looked up at the incessant _tap tap tap_ of Forrest’s finger against the glass, narrowed her eyes, and readied a stance that she often took whenever she was about to give Max a more-than-stern talking to.

“What on _earth_ do you think you’re – _oh_ , Alex!” she blinked, startled. “What’re you doing here?” She raised a brow at Forrest. “Friend of yours?”

“Come to visit from Paris,” Forrest said at once, grinning widely as if proud of himself for having remembered his own story.

“You’ve never told me of a friend from Paris,” Liz said.

“Never mind what I’m doing here,” Alex said hastily. “What’re _you_ doing here? It’s Sunday, after all.”

“I’m just finishing some paperwork I’d left last night,” Liz said, eying Forrest who was still tapping at the glass as if expecting it to dissolve.

Alex chuckled nervously and pulled Forrest in against his side. “Don’t suppose we can come in for a spot of tea?”

“Certainly,” Liz said, still watching Forrest who seemed perfectly content now as his shoulder, arm, and waist pressed against Alex’s. Alex realized his arm was still around Forrest’s waist and he pulled it back immediately. “Best come in then.”

Alex had hoped that keeping Forrest seated would be enough to keep him still, but he kept tapping his heels against the carpeted floors, clenching and unclenching his hands on his thighs, occasionally tugging on Alex’s sleeve as he looked round the shop, taking everything in.

Alex wondered if this was the first time he had seen such colors before, if it seemed so bright and colorful compared to what he was certain was the infinite darkness of the ocean floors, but he could not very well ask with Liz seated across from them.

They had decided long ago that, as so many people wandered in for fittings or to marvel at ensembles, it would be best to include a small stove in the backroom, enough that they could heat a pot of tea when visits lasted beyond half an hour.

Liz set a plate of biscuits along with the cup of tea. Forrest’s eyes had widened at the small pastries and he’d devoured each hungrily, as if he had not had two plates’ worth of cakes and biscuits only a few hours ago, saving the last for Alex which he had handed him very delicately.

“No, no,” Alex had quietly warned when Forrest had attempted to drink the hot cup of tea in one gulp. “You must wait for it to cool.”

“Something wrong?” Liz asked, pouring herself a cup.

“Nothing at all,” Alex said.

“Your shop is brilliant,” Forrest said. “It’s a room full of treasures, is what it is!”

Liz seemed pleased with this description and nodded once. “Why, yes,” she said proudly. “Yes, it is. You’ll have to forgive me, Forrest, I don’t recall Alex ever mentioning you.”

Forrest tore his eyes away from a deep-blue dress hanging in the corner and said, “My name’s Forrest Long.”

Pause. Liz blinked. “No . . . no, I don’t believe I’d ever heard that name in passing either.”

“Honestly,” Alex huffed nervously. “How could you not remember Forrest?”

Liz narrowed her eyes suspiciously. This was the wrong thing to say. While Gregory and Isobel may be made to believe they’d forgotten, Liz prided herself on remembering every conversation ever had with anyone – friend or otherwise – every bargain ever struck, every order ever made, and every name ever mentioned. She would not miss Forrest’s name had it ever been brought up in conversation.

“N-No!” he blurted before she could contradict him. “No, that’s right, I don’t believe I ever mentioned him to you before. I’d written to him when I’d decided to accompany father. He came to see me after I’d returned. Wasn’t that kind of him?”

Her expression softened. “Has he really?”

“That is true,” Forrest conceded. “I couldn’t leave him without knowing for certain that he was all right.” He turned a fond smile on Alex. “He is far too precious to me.”

“Is that so?”

Forrest nodded once and pointed to the small door in the back. “Where does that lead to? A cavern? Perhaps a palace of ruins?”

Liz looked as if she was trying to understand Forrest’s language, but even as his words sounded like they must’ve been English, they were for the most part another vernacular entirely.

Alex huffed a laugh. “Oh Forrest, how funny you are. That’s the backroom. For other supplies and storage . . . as any backroom usually is.”

“Can we go in there?”

Alex glanced at Liz. “You can, certainly.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I will be right here when you return,” Alex said. Forrest hesitated, but seemed eager to explore, nonetheless. Alex found it so endearing that he took Forrest’s hand, squeezed briefly, and immediately let go.

Forrest seemed startled by the touch, and held his hand to his chest as if treasuring the feeling of Alex’s skin against his. He took it as permission to go and hurried off to the backroom, never hesitating in his steps even as Alex warned him, “And don’t touch anything!”

Alex and Liz were left along together. Liz took a steady sip of her tea.

“He seems charming,” she said, her expression unreadable.

Alex looked over his shoulder even as she spoke, listening among the rustling of items for a yelp of pain or a crash or something setting on fire.

“Yes, he is,” Alex said without thought.

“Very handsome.”

“I suppose so.”

“Certainly looks at _you_ as if he believes it.”

“Me?” Alex blinked. “He does not.”

“He _likes_ you, Alex.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Alex flushed. “He is simply . . . he . . . he is polite.”

“He came to see you after your voyage,” Liz said. “That is more than I can say for Michael.”

“Honestly,” Alex sighed, looking over his shoulder once more. “How could he have known I was on a voyage at all? It was hardly in the papers, was it?”

Liz said nothing for a moment. “Isobel didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Alex almost jumped when he heard a loud clattering behind him. “What was that?!” he called.

“Everything’s fine!” Forrest called back. “I dropped a hanger. Sorry!”

“Wouldn’t you rather come have your tea?” Alex called worriedly. “It’ll get cold soon!”

“Look at you, this is good,” Liz said, but Alex was barely paying attention. “Caring about someone else. I already told your brother and sister that going on that voyage, _especially_ for such a man, was a pointless venture. And he hardly deserved it. I do hope, Alex, that after everything, you’ve stopped giving him any thought.”

“Yes, yes,” Alex muttered. Had the backroom turned silent? No, he heard a shuffling, he was sure of it.

“And after refusing to come see you! Of all the selfish, cold-hearted, cruel –” she huffed. “Are you still thinking of Michael, then?”

“Hm?” Alex, startled, turned to her, hoping Forrest had done as he’d told him to do. “Sorry, what?”

Liz raised a brow, and her expression turned satisfied. “Good. Quite right. No need to discuss it any further.”

“Er – yes, certainly,” Alex said, clueless.

“Liz,” Max suddenly ran in. “Please, I was hoping you could – _Alex_!” He sighed, relief etched in his expression. “Thank goodness you’re all right. I’d hoped to see you today.”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Your voyage!” Max said as if it was obvious. “I read in Isobel’s letter that you had set sail and were to return today. Forgive me, I had only found the letter now, or I would have come to greet you at the shore yesterday.”

Liz regarded him with a carefully guarded expression, clearly surprised that he had come at all yet unwilling to show it, but Alex frowned. “Isobel wrote you a letter?”

Max looked to Liz whose expression remained unreadable. “No, I read it from Michael.”

“What?”

“Michael was the one Isobel wrote,” Max said. “I only just discovered . . . what is it?” he asked as Alex stared. “Have I said something wrong?”

“Goodness, this family,” Liz sighed heavily.

“Michael knew I had gone on a voyage?” Alex asked, his voice small, as if someone else were speaking and he was watching from afar. “He knew when I was to return? No, that . . . that cannot be right. If he had known, then . . . then . . .”

_CRASH!_

Alex did jump this time and returned forcefully to his body as he turned and ran into the backroom to find Forrest standing amidst a gathering of unused, somewhat broken mannequins, his arms shielding his head.

“Are you all right?” Alex asked.

“I thought it was people!” Forrest exclaimed. “ _People_ stuck on the shelves! I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would cause such a mess! I only wanted to help them down!”

Liz and Max, who had come to stand behind Alex, stared incredulously.

“I cannot tell if he is joking or not,” Max said.

“Surely he must be!” Liz huffed a chuckle. Max looked as if the world spun with Liz’s joy. A smile tugged at Alex’s lips as well, and before he could help himself, he began to laugh.

“You’re – you’re not hurt, are you?” he asked in between fits of laughter, offering Forrest a hand. Forrest took it, stepped out of the mess he’d created, and did not let go again.

“Only my pride,” Forrest said, wearing an expression very similar to Max’s; sheer admiration. He looked down at the mannequins and shuddered. “I’ve never _seen_ such a thing.”

Max barked a laugh. “Another jest surely!”

“Ha ha, yes!” Alex said hastily. “A jest.”

In the hour that followed, Alex, Forrest, Max, and Liz fixed the mess in the storage room, and Liz even allowed Max to sit for a cup of tea with them before returning to the post, after which Alex and Forrest excused themselves.

Alex did not speak as they made their way down the street. Many women and men, he briefly noticed, spotted Forrest and stopped to whisper and gossip to one another. A woman fanned herself as the two men passed, another giggled with her friend and almost brushed Forrest’s arm. One man bid hello to him, plucking a flower out of his coat pocket and handing it to Forrest, which Forrest then took without a word and handed to Alex.

It was like this the whole way; Forrest hardly seemed to notice anyone else was walking the streets, let alone attempting to acquire his attention. He had only eyes for Alex. Smiling at Alex, taking Alex’s hand, leaning into Alex as they walked.

Alex let him as his mind was preoccupied with what he’d been told in the dress shop. Isobel had written to Michael of his voyage, and Michael had known when he would be returning.

_But then . . . why has he not yet come to see me? Is he not concerned for me?_

“No, no,” Alex muttered, shaking his head. “How could you think such a thing? He’s concerned, he _must_ be.”

“Who’s concerned?” Forrest, who had just gotten accustomed to walking on his own, turned a few paces ahead of Alex.

“No one,” Alex said.

Forrest raised a brow. “And you are so bothered that _no one_ is concerned?” He stopped, taking Alex’s hands. In the sunlight, his brown hair turned to gold as it fell over his eyes and Alex had the very strong and very _odd_ urge to brush it back with his fingers.

“Are you worried for Michael?”

Alex stilled. “What? How did you know about Michael? I never mentioned him.”

“Oh but you did,” Forrest said.

Alex hesitated. “C-Can you read my thoughts?”

Forrest laughed. “Of course not! Imagine! The world would never go quiet again!”

“Then how . . . _father_?”

Forrest followed Alex’s gaze. They’d arrived back at the bakery where Alex’s father stood in the window, seemingly arguing with Gregory. Flint was standing outside against the wall, his arms crossed.

“What’s happening?” Alex murmured and took a step towards the shop only for Forrest to take his arm.

“Alex, wait,” he said, wearing an expression that Alex had not seen since he’d seen him in the cavern underwater. He gestured with his chin at Flint who, Alex only just realized, had spotted them.

Flint’s eyes were wide and he was shaking his head adamantly, waving Alex and Forrest away. His silent warning was clear; _He is here for you. You must leave._

Alex hesitated, but Forrest was already tugging his arm, leading him back up the street, away from the bakery, away from Gregory and Isobel, and away from Jesse Manes.

Alex walked on with furrowed brows, and though Forrest was the stranger to the village, he kept an arm around Alex’s waist, leading him on steadily as if he had walked on two legs all his life.

Neither of them dared turn around until they had arrived at a teashop a long walk away. They went inside and Alex asked for three scones for Forrest and a tea for himself.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said quietly after they were served. “What would my father still want with me?”

The windows were wide here, the peach curtains flowing in the cool breeze, and they could see the ocean from where they sat.

“Perhaps he doubts the story you told,” Forrest suggested, though he sounded more certain than curious. “In all fairness, there is little plausible way to explain how you survived.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I – I never said a word or gave any indication of you or your kind, I promise you.”

Forrest gave him half a smile, as if he could not help but be slightly amused. “I believe you. I’ve always believed our secret was safe with you.”

Alex looked down. He did not want to think it, but he could not remember the last time Michael had said anything of the sort, had looked at him with such trust.

“How can you have such faith in me?” he asked a moment later. “How can you believe that I am so strong?”

“Anyone who fights for love is strong,” Forrest said and Alex looked up to see him smiling kindly now. “And I have never seen anyone fight as you do.”

Forrest reached across the table, taking Alex’s hand in his. Alex did not stop him, he _could_ not, for Forrest’s touch was warm and soothing and he smelled of the magic of the ocean Alex had to confess to, the wonders he’d seen as he and Forrest had swam up from the depths to the surface.

“I heard you,” Forrest said so softly that he might not have said it at all. “Talking to the stars of your Michael. Of your mother.”

“You . . . heard me,” Alex repeated, thinking back to the nights on the ship when he did not dare lay in his chambers but decided to lie on the deck instead, in a heap of blankets. Nights he had spoken to the stars, his only companions, of his love for Michael, asking if they would carry his messages to him in his dreams.

_Tell him I love him, won’t you, mother? Tell him I will fight through the very depth of the ocean’s darkness to return to him. Tell him it is all for him._

Alex had no idea that anyone had been listening.

“I heard you. I know your heart belongs to another, Alex.” He pulled on his necklace, holding the blue seashell. “Some say this little trinket can grant one’s deepest desire. It was a story my father used to tell me. He said that when you find true love, the seashell will give you any wish. Only one. I do not know if I believe any of that, but for three days, only these three, I wish to pretend that your heart could belong to me.”

Alex’s throat constricted at Forrest’s words, at the way in which he touched each of Alex’s fingers with his own as if they were each a delicate flower petal, the way his own eyes fluttered as he pressed a kiss to Alex’s hand.

Alex could not be his, he knew, and it left a strange, rather heavy weight in his chest, though he could not say why. Perhaps it was because Forrest was so kind and, in his limited time on land, was not asking for much, that the refusal would not move past Alex’s lips.

Therefore, he did not refuse, but silently covered Forrest’s hands with his own. Forrest looked surprised, but when Alex offered a small smile, Forrest’s own grin widened, and he kissed Alex’s hand again.

_He saved my life,_ Alex thought, struggling to swallow past the lump in his throat. _That is why I could not refuse him. He saved me, and now I will help him. And when the three days are over, he will leave, and I can return to Michael’s side, where I belong._

But Michael had left him. Michael had abandoned him when he had been near death. Why? _Why hadn’t he come to see me?_

That was when Alex spotted him. Out the window, across the street, was a man with curly hair, turned to blonde at the tips by the sunlight (not golden like Forrest’s); _Michael._ He was as handsome as the last day Alex had seen him weeks ago. Alex stood with a gasp, already yearning to feel Michael’s warmth once more, a smile already tugging at his lips before he realized that Michael was not alone.

“What is it?” he heard Forrest ask. “Alex, what’s wrong? What do you see?”

But Alex could not hear him. All he could hear in his mind were Max’s words from what felt like yesterday; _“Well, a tad frustrated, really, in his search for a wife.”_

“No,” Alex breathed. It could not have been true. And yet, there Michael was, a beautiful woman at his arm. She had dark hair, ringlets curled down the nape of her neck, an umbrella in hand. Just before they entered a ring shop, Alex watched with numb horror as she batted her lashes at him and he smiled – not the wide, carefree smile Alex knew and loved, but a polite, indulgent one. She ran a hand down his cheek and murmured something.

They stepped inside together and were hidden from view, but Alex had already seen enough.

“Alex?” Forrest asked, standing now at Alex’s side. He caught Alex as he sat back down. This couldn’t be possible; he thought he had more time. He thought Michael would be waiting for him.

All this, everything he had done – all for nothing. Michael had already found a woman to love.

Alex could not consider it, for in that moment, Forrest had taken him by the hand and pulled him out of his seat.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked as Forrest led him out of the shop and down a familiar road.

“If we cannot yet return to the bakery, then we must go to the shore!” he said excitedly, pulling him along. “I can sense the waves calling to me!”

“W-Why would we go there?!” Alex exclaimed. “You want to be human, you ought to spend time far away from the shore, shouldn’t you?”

“Why would anyone want to be away from the water?”

“But you’ll have all the time in the world once you return!”

Forrest laughed. “But not with you!” Alex fell silent. “The ocean will never mean so much as when you and I join in its waves. Don’t you agree?”

“Er –”

“Excellent!” Forrest said, and it seemed he truly _did_ have the power to sense the ocean for in no time at all, Alex found themselves rushing down the stone steps that led to the shore. Forrest ran with Alex’s hand in his, but as they came closer to the water –

_Are you standing by my side, or not?_

Alex dug his heels into the sand, stopping Forrest abruptly.

Forrest looked back at him, his expression completely unsurprised. In fact, he was _smiling._ The cool ocean breeze ruffled his hair, and Forrest was bathed in gold. Alex looked away, shaking his head stiffly.

“I’m – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“I’ve tried,” he breathed, his eyes burning. He felt such shame fill his chest now. “I can’t go into the water, I _cannot.”_

“Yes, you can,” Forrest said. “And you shall. There is no reason to fear it, not after all you had endured.”

“It is _what_ I had endured that keeps me from it now!”

“It’s all right to be afraid,” Forrest said.

“No, it is not!”

“Alex –”

“ _No!_ I tire of everyone telling me that it’s all right, that I have time, that I’m courageous regardless – none of it is true! I am a coward, and you cannot know of what this cowardice has cost me, but the ocean frightens me, even more so now! I do not know if all merpeople are good, I do not know for certain if my mother was not drowned by them, I do not know if any wait to harm me now! I can’t swim, I can’t lie on the waves without fear of drowning, I can’t do _anything!”_

Forrest stared, his smile dimmed. “And who told you that?”

Alex huffed, a tear falling down his cheek. He shook his head. “Michael knew . . . he knew I was to set out for a voyage, he knew when I would return . . . and he never came to see me.” He sank down onto the sand, Forrest’s hand still tight on his.

“You . . . said you were taking the voyage to please him,” Forrest said. “Would he not have you otherwise?” When Alex did not answer, Forrest sat down beside him. “How can a man that claims to be in love hold _conditions_ for his heart?”

Alex stared at the sand a long while before he said, “We were engaged to be married.” Forrest did not respond, but Alex did not think it was much of a surprise. “He’s a captain of a ship, you see. I, after my mother’s death, feared the water. I was so young, but the nightmares of being pulled under the surface as she was never faded. He was terribly patient with me in the beginning, amused even . . . then he seemed to realize that my fear was not one that could be subdued so easily. Try as I might, I could not touch the water.”

Alex sniffed. “A-And he’s a captain, he could not be with someone who could not accompany him. It’s very understandable, really. He gave me so many chances to overcome my fear and I never managed it.”

Forrest frowned. “So he threatened to end your engagement unless you went on a voyage?”

“Oh no!” Alex hastily said. “No, no, _no_ , the voyage was _my_ idea!”

“And the engagement?”

He hesitated. “Michael told everyone that _I_ had been the one to end it,” he said, and dropped his voice to a mutter as he added, “I suppose he thought it would help me save face. Preserve dignity, or something of the sort. Funny how, when your heart’s broken, all you can think of is the pain. I often wonder how Michael had the time to consider anything else.”

Nothing was said for a long while, then Forrest asked, “That man you saw today from the teashop . . . was that Michael?”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears and he did not respond, but that seemed to be response enough for Forrest. The sun was beginning to set already, the sunlight glistening on the water. By the third, Forrest’s time in the human world would be over, and Alex thought of this as his last few memories here. He could not allow that.

He straightened his shoulders and attempted to keep his lower lip from trembling. Surely, there had to be more to Michael’s story than he believed.

_But you knew your love was doomed the moment he had turned you away, had you not?_ a voice in the back of his head said as plainly as Liz might have. _Now comes the time for you to accept it._

“No,” Alex whispered. “Not yet.” He stood, pulling Forrest along. The merman looked slightly startled, but Alex was already unbuttoning his coat and kicking off his boots. As the sand touched his toes, he shuddered, but forced it down quickly enough.

“Right then,” he said louder, more firmly than his heart could allow. “D’you want to go in the water or not?!”

“What?” Forrest blinked. “You _want_ to go into the water?”

“No, not at all,” Alex said. “But I cannot allow you to go in alone.”

Forrest raised a brow, his usual smile tugging at his lips. “But I am a merman, Alex, or have you forgotten?”

“You are not a merman _now_ ,” Alex said. “And did you not say the ocean would not be special to you again until I joined you?” He huffed. “Have you changed your mind?”

Forrest bit his lower lip and immediately began stripping himself of his own coat. Or he attempted to, at least. He fumbled with the buttons, unable to remove them properly.

“Here,” Alex said. “Let me.”

He came close enough that Forrest’s nose almost brushed his own, and Alex attempted to keep his fingers still as he undid Forrest’s coat and gently pushed it off his shoulders. Alex then moved to undo Forrest’s shirt, aware that Forrest was staring intently at him. He glanced up to find the merman watching his lips, licking his own.

Alex cleared his throat, his fingers brushing Forrest’s naked chest against his will. He put his hands down and stepped away when Forrest moved an inch closer.

“All right!” he said loudly, his cheeks turned to fire. “That’ll do, I think!”

Forrest smirked, tugging the shirt apart a bit more, his eyes on Alex. “All right then,” he held out a hand for Alex to take. “Are you ready?”

Alex hesitated. In truth, he was not at all ready, but he thought of Michael and the woman he was with, the last words Michael had spoken to him and the disappointment in his expression, and – at the forefront of it all – Forrest’s faith in him, his smile, his warmth.

He found the strength to take Forrest’s hand, and as the merman’s fingers closed around his, he felt a strange shock go up his arm and spread throughout his entire body in an instant.

“Are you all right?” Forrest asked as something gold and mischievous glowed in his dark eyes. Alex wondered if he could truly hear his thoughts and felt as if he might die. “Come along, then.”

He took one step towards the waves, and Alex swallowed heavily and followed. Another step, and Alex followed. Then Forrest touched the water, and Alex froze.

“You can do this,” Forrest encouraged.

Alex clenched his jaw. Forrest did not seem to be mocking him, nor did he seem disappointed or resigned to Alex’s failure. Instead, he smiled as if he truly believed in Alex’s courage. Alex found he could not – and did not want to – disappoint him.

“I . . . can do this,” he said slowly. “I can do this.”

Forrest kissed Alex’s fingers, and he felt another shudder run through his body. “Come along, my beauty.”

Alex swallowed heavily and forced his foot forward. It felt like lead, but he forced the other. The sand was swallowing him, his heart was hammering in his chest.

“Look at me,” Forrest said. “Only at me.”

Alex looked up and caught Forrest’s eyes. Gold specs danced across the dark brown, glistening like sunlight over water. His cheeks were red, strands of his hair still falling over his brow, his hold on Alex tight, refusing to let him go.

And somehow, Alex _knew_ he was safe with this man. Forrest would not release him, would not see him put in any danger. He moved forward more easily with that thought, and soon felt the touch of the water around his ankles.

Alex’s body clenched and his breaths turned ragged.

Forrest closed the distance between them until their chests were touching, their foreheads pressed against one another, and Forrest’s hand was cupping Alex’s jaw. The touch cut through the voices and crashing waves in Alex’s mind, and he saw only Forrest before him, bathed in gold and pink and violet.

“Only at me,” he whispered, and Alex nodded.

“Only at you.”

Forrest bit his lower lip and for a moment, Alex thought he might lean forward and kiss him. When he pulled away instead, Alex inhaled deeply, trying to shove what strongly felt like disappointment down his chest.

He held onto Forrest’s hand as he stepped deeper and deeper into the water. It was now up to Alex’s hips. His heart hammered so painfully he was sure it would leap out. But he inhaled shakily, letting Forrest lead him in deeper. Once the waves rose unexpectedly and reached his shoulders, Alex gasped and pulled Forrest in, wrapping his arms around the merman’s shoulders.

Forrest laughed, his breath fanning Alex’s lips as Alex pressed their foreheads together roughly. “You’re safe with me,” he said, his arms coming around Alex’s waist and holding him tightly.

“I’m in the water,” Alex said weakly, unable to say anything else.

“Yes, you are,” Forrest said and tilted his chin forward, his lips barely brushing Alex’s. Alex knew he should move away, but he could not, for the touch of the water and of Forrest’s hands on his body was paralyzing.

“Is it too cold?” Forrest asked and Alex shook his head mutely. Forrest’s eyes fluttered shut and he held Alex tighter until their bodies were pressed together tightly. Alex was certain their foreheads would bruise, but neither of them was willing to let go.

“Thank you, my beauty,” Forrest whispered. “Now, even as we part, these waters will carry your trace, and I will never have to feel without you again.”

Alex dropped his forehead onto Forrest’s shoulder, his embrace tighter as he hid his face in the crook of Forrest’s neck. All around him, he could feel and hear the water, and while he was eager to leave it, he felt small relief wash through him. He had stepped into the water, and he had survived. He had stepped into the water, and the world had not ended. He could still feel his own heart thrashing wildly in his chest, and he could feel Forrest’s hands on him, his arms around him, his chest and legs and hips against his own. Alex flushed. Had the water turned warm all of a sudden?

For a moment, Alex almost thought he could see Forrest’s blue hair, his scales and the shimmering dust that covered his shoulders and arms, his large blue and gold fin. Forrest assured him, however, that he was mortal for the time.

“I cannot breathe underwater as I used to,” Forrest explained. “It’s all a very strange feeling. Would you like me to show you how to swim?”

Alex was startled. “Er – c-can we do it tomorrow? It’s almost time for dinner and I promised I’d cook tonight.”

Forrest’s expression brightened. “Can I help?”

Relief washed over Alex at the thought of leaving the water. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“I’ve never made presto before,” Forrest said, watching over Alex’s shoulder as he strained the noodles.

“It’s _pasta_ , Forrest, not presto,” Alex laughed. “And it’s really quite simple, once you learn how to do it.”

“What’s that?” Forrest pointed.

“Those are tomatoes.”

“And this funny looking thing?”

“That’s garlic,” Alex laughed again. He felt a certain obligation to make the perfect dinner tonight, if Forrest was to eat it.

Forrest stood straight, stumbled a bit on his feet, and straightened again eagerly. “What can I do?”

“Erm . . .” Alex looked around for something simple. He took one of the large baguettes from a pile on the counter, and put it in front of Forrest. He took a small knife, and carefully closed his hand around it. “You can start by slicing the bread.”

“Wow,” Forrest’s eyes widened at the shine of the blade, bringing it a tad too close to his face. Alex brought his wrist down.

“It’s sharp,” he warned, keeping the knife faced down on the bread. “Be very careful.”

Forrest could only watch him as Alex held his hand in both of his, and Alex realized – once again – that they were standing far too close. He cleared his throat and looked down, trying not to flush at the memory of Forrest’s strong shoulders, his chest pressed against Alex’s, his hands around Alex’s waist, keeping them afloat.

“What are you thinking about?” Forrest asked in a low voice, and Alex returned to the noodles.

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing.”

Forrest said nothing for a moment. Then, “Is it Michael?”

Alex blinked. He had, in fact, not been thinking of Michael at all. He felt a strange guilt. Michael had been at the forefront of his mind since they had met. He couldn’t remember _ever_ considering another man when there was Michael to think about.

“No,” Alex said slowly. “No, it’s not.”

“Well, if you want, I could – _ow_!”

Alex nearly dropped the pot. Forrest was holding his finger tightly, the knife on the floor.

“Oh dear,” Alex said. “It’s all right, you’re all right.”

“It burns,” Forrest winced as Alex placed his hand under cold water.

“I’m surprised you know of such a feeling,” Alex said lightly. The cut was very small, but as they were on dry land, and not under cold water already, Alex realized it must have felt worse than it was.

Forrest huffed a chuckle, his brows furrowed. “I know of being cut, Alex. We have boulders and all matters of fish that can get quite aggressive at times.”

“Goodness,” Alex laughed. “That sounds exciting. All my scars come from the sewing machine.”

“I would love to watch you sew,” Forrest said eagerly, and hissed when Alex dried his finger off with a rag.

“There, there,” Alex said gently and thoughtlessly kissed Forrest’s finger – as his mother used to do for him and his brothers – before looking for a ball of cotton and some tape. When he had bandaged Forrest’s finger, he looked up and found the merman staring at him with a look of awe.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever kissed me,” he said, and Alex’s eyes widened.

“I – I didn’t mean to –”

“No, no,” Forrest said, holding his hand to his chest, over his heart. “I’m keeping it. You cannot have it back.”

Alex scoffed, stirring the sauce and pretending that the rising steam was the cause behind the heat in his cheeks and ears. “You place too high a value on my affection.”

“Or perhaps you do not place a high _enough_ value on it,” Forrest said, stepping so close that he was pressed against Alex’s elbow. Alex attempted very hard not to meet his eyes.

Forrest moved his bangs back from his eyes, and Alex’s heart fluttered, his touch leaving a ripple of shocks.

“You cannot know,” he said, “how it feels to be touched by you. It’s like magic; enchanting the mind and senses.”

Alex shook his head. “ _You_ cannot know so much of me, sir, for we do not know each other.”

“But I do know you,” Forrest said. “And you know me. You know more than you are willing to confess to.”

“And why wouldn’t I be willing to confess to such a thing?” Alex asked quietly, unable to speak any louder.

Forrest moved in closer, his breath warm against Alex’s cheek. “Because you are beginning to feel for me as I feel for you.”

Alex huffed, breaking contact. He touched the sauce on his wooden spoon and smeared it on Forrest’s nose. “ _Honestly_ , enough of this now!”

Forrest blinked, looking absolutely ridiculous with a red nose and wide eyes. Alex could not help but laugh.

Forrest grinned. “Think that’s funny, do you?”

And before Alex could answer, Forrest picked some of the sauce off the spoon himself and smeared it against Alex’s cheeks. “There,” he said. “You really do turn a very obvious shade of red around me.”

“Oh no, sir, you’ve really done it now,” Alex laughed, and he and Forrest engaged in a battle of sauces and cheese, getting it everywhere so that in a few minutes’ time, they both looked as if they’d been in a horrible accident and were bleeding everywhere.

Finally, Forrest licked some of the sauce clinging to the corner of his lips and his eyes widened in pure joy. “Goodness, that tastes _amazing_!”

Needless to say, Isobel was not thrilled about the mess, but she seemed to forgive them easily enough after they’d cleaned the kitchen and Forrest, in his eagerness to eat, sat down at the table excitedly, still covered in tomato and cheese, and said, “I’ve never made such a dinner before.”

“You must come from a wealthy home,” Gregory noted, fixing the napkin on his lap. Alex did not think there was any need for him and Forrest to do the same. “If you’ve never had to cook such a simple meal.”

“ _Simple_?” Alex blinked. “Excuse me, but I work very hard on my pasta.”

“It’s not that I come from a wealthy home, per say,” Forrest said carefully. “We simply . . . eat differently where I’m from.”

Isobel raised her brow. _“Paris?”_

“He means his family eats differently,” Alex said hastily. “I could’ve sworn I joked about that once when I’d read it months ago. No? Must’ve slipped my mind. Pass the bread, will you?”

Gregory looked at Alex with furrowed brows as he passed the basket across the small table. “Well,” he prompted, “what sort of meals _were_ you having, Forrest?”

“Fish,” Forrest said, glanced at Alex, then, “and . . . plants.”

“Plants?”

“Seaweed, and the sort.”

“Seaweed?” Isobel blinked. “I didn’t know people in Paris were eating seaweed.”

“Must be a city custom,” Gregory shrugged.

Alex let Forrest watch him as he carefully used his fork to gather a good amount of pasta. Forrest, however, gathered far too much so that he had to open his mouth widely to be able to fit it in. His eyes widened and his cheeks flushed.

“Amec!” he said, his voice muffled. “Dis ich nunderhull!”

A giggle bubbled in Alex’s throat. Forrest looked quite nice with his cheeks so red and his eyes so bright. Alex thought that a Forrest enjoying his food was probably his favorite Forrest of all.

“Pardon?”

Forrest swallowed and heaved a great huff. “I said, this is wonderful!”

Isobel grinned, her eyes flitting between Forrest and Alex. “Yes, Alex is talented at many things, is he not?”

“I’m _not_ ,” Alex said through grit teeth.

“It’s true,” Gregory said with a knowing smirk, patting Alex’s back. “D’you know, Forrest, Alex cooks most of our meals. And have you seen the _ensembles_ he creates?”

Forrest beamed at Alex. “I think Alex is the most incredible human in the world.”

Gregory and Isobel smiled, though their brows furrowed slightly as if they did not quite comprehend the compliment. _Human?_

Alex was only about to nervously wave the flattery away when there came a knock at the door.

“Who would come at this time?” Alex wondered aloud, but Gregory and Isobel glanced warily at one another.

“Alex,” Gregory said. “Why don’t you and Forrest take your plates into your room?”

_Knock knock knock._

“What’re you talking about?” Alex said. “Why are you acting so strange? And will _someone_ get the door please?”

“I’ll get it!” Forrest offered and stood to answer.

Isobel grabbed his arm. “No, really, you two should go finish your meal inside, Alex.”

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

Alex almost jumped at whoever was beating the door. “What on earth . . .?”

Gregory huffed, now pulling Alex and Forrest along and pushing them into the corridor. “Stay in your room, Alex, until I tell you to come out,” he said quietly.

Alex looked to Forrest who looked equally startled at the sudden graveness of his tone.

“Come, Forrest,” he muttered, leading Forrest to his bedroom door. They stepped inside, but kept the door ajar behind them, peeking through the opening.

Alex heard Gregory open the front door as Isobel nervously patted down her apron, her resolve evident even from where they hid.

“Gregory,” Alex heard a familiar voice say.

“Father,” Gregory greeted just as stiffly.

Alex’s eyes widened, and he instinctively reached for Forrest’s hand. What did his father want at this time of night?

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Enough of that tone, Gregory,” he said coldly. “Where’s Alex?”

“Asleep?”

“Already? Alex never slept at this time.”

“Yes, well, I’m not expecting you to know much anymore about your own son.”

“Gregory –” another tentative voice started.

“Stop it, Flint,” Gregory cut him off harshly. “If you’re not going to be helpful, don’t bother speaking at all.”

“I’m _trying_ to help,” Flint urged.

Isobel came to stand beside Gregory. “Alex is asleep. If you want to see him, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

“So you can find another excuse to keep him from me? _Alex!”_ Jesse called, and Alex shut the door more, keeping Forrest hidden behind him.

“Father, you cannot come in, I do not permit it!” Gregory said angrily.

“There has been word in the village of Alex’s new friend. An odd sort of fellow,” Jesse said slowly, and Alex’s hand tightened on Forrest’s.

“Alex has been writing to him for months,” Isobel said calmly. “He’s come from Paris to visit.”

“After surviving a voyage so incredibly? My, what perfect timing.”

“He was concerned for his friend’s safety. Is he not allowed?”

Gregory scoffed. “Or is it merely impossible to comprehend someone actually worrying about Alex?”

No one said anything for a long while. Then Jesse spoke, his voice quiet. “There is a legend that creatures of the sea can take on any human form they please to capture their prey.” Alex felt Forrest hold his hand more tightly. “You speak of Alex’s safety, and yet I only hope that your arrogance – your blatant refusal to believe in magic simply because it is unknown to you – does not cost your brother his life.”

“How _dare_ you threaten him in my home,” Gregory thundered.

“Father, please,” Flint urged. “We’ve no chance of seeing Alex now. Let us leave.”

Silence. Then Alex heard footsteps receding. He thought the conversation was over then, but –

“Flint,” Gregory said, his voice softer. “Do not let him return.”

“Gregory, he is _ill_ ,” Flint said helplessly. “Surely, you must see that!”

“I do,” he said. “He is not well. That is plain for all. But how far is _too_ far, do you think? When will you draw the line?”

“He won’t harm Alex,” Flint said. “His paranoia has never hurt _anyone_.”

“It nearly got Alex killed,” he said. “It hurts _you_ every day. It’s hurt Clay enough that he won’t return any of our letters. When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Please do not start this now.” Flint sounded desperate, and Alex clutched the doorframe tightly. “I am _trying_ so hard to save our family. Father’s harmless. He is. Someday you’ll see that.”

A pause. “Someday,” Gregory repeated. The front door finally closed, and Alex closed his own door as well, attempting to process everything he had heard, his heart in his throat.

“Alex?” Forrest touched his back, and Alex turned to find his expression one of deep concern.

Alex mustered a smile. He couldn’t bear seeing Forrest look so troubled rather than laughing and joyous. “I’m all right. Are you?”

Forrest nodded. “Your father is still looking for me, I gather.”

Alex’s shoulders straightened. “He will never have you, Forrest. I give you my word.”

“Your word,” Forrest smiled softly as he searched Alex’s face. “There’s no need, Alex. I believe you will protect me. You’ve already done it once before.”

Alex was startled by his words. “Do not tell me . . . that day, when I had returned to my family, were you still there? Were you listening?”

“Yes, but it is not because I doubted you, Alex, I swear to you,” Forrest said, his thumb brushing Alex’s wrist as he stepped closer. “I saw your father and I wanted to make certain that you would be all right.”

“How do you know so much of my father?” Alex asked. “Had you seen him before on his other voyages?”

Forrest’s expression faltered and he looked down. “Yes. I have. And I know the kind of man he is. When I saw your ship that day, I realized you were his son, and I wanted to see if you were anything like him. But where you father talked of death and darkness, you talked of love and hope. I knew in an instant that you were as different as night and day.”

“Forrest . . .” Alex did not know what to think. The only thing he _did_ know was that Forrest was keeping something from him, in the way he refused to meet Alex’s eyes again. Forrest _never_ refused to meet his eyes.

Before he could ask, however, someone knocked on Alex’s door and they both turned to see Isobel come in. She stared at them a moment and Alex realized it was because he and Forrest were standing _too_ close to one another. He cleared his throat and put a hand against Forrest’s chest, backing away.

“Yes?” he asked, and felt betrayed at his voice when it trembled.

A smile tugged at Isobel’s lips and she shrugged. “I was only coming to call you back to dinner. Unless you’re content with staying in here.”

“Oh get out of the way,” Alex huffed, his face red and Isobel and Forrest giggling behind him.

After dinner, Alex and Forrest were told to wash themselves, and Alex briefly imagined Forrest lying in the bath with his wet blue hair and his large fin pointing out the other end.

When he came into his bedroom, however, he found Forrest had already managed to strip himself of all his clothing.

“Ah!” Alex screamed and turned around, his hands trembling and his heart racing. “What are you doing?!”

“I thought we were meant to wash, were we not?”

“Yes, but you are nude!”

“I’m always nude,” Forrest said.

“I – that – _it’s different!”_ Alex shut his eyes tight.

“Is it?” Forrest asked, and Alex turned as stiff as a board as he felt the merman press against his back. “I myself think you humans are far too concerned with hiding yourselves.” He placed his hands on Alex’s shoulders, and Alex was torn between scrunching and melting under his touch.

Forrest’s hands fell down Alex’s arms and covered his fingers. Alex’s breathing turned shallow and quick as he felt Forrest breathe against the nape of his neck.

“I love your scent,” Forrest whispered against his hair, and Alex’s eyes fluttered as Forrest’s hands came up and around his shoulders. He began to unbutton Alex’s shirt. “You smell of the earth. It is intoxicating.”

“F-Forrest,” Alex turned to face him, his eyes locking on Forrest’s to keep himself from looking down.

“There is one thing I wish to feel in the human world,” Forrest whispered, his eyes following the trail down Alex’s chest as his shirt opened to reveal hairy, muscled skin. “One thing . . . more than anything else.”

Alex swallowed heavily as Forrest undid the shirt completely and pushed it off his shoulders. Forrest held Alex’s face in his hands, pressing their foreheads together. Alex slowly reached down to touch Forrest’s waist, and inhaled shakily at the warmth of his smooth skin. His mouth fell open on a word or sound, though he couldn’t imagine what he would say.

All he knew was that he wanted to feel Forrest’s naked skin against his own. He wanted to see if Forrest’s lips were as warm as they had been that day, when he’d kissed his cheek.

“Alex,” Forrest breathed, his lips surging forward to capture Alex’s.

_Will you be the one to come with me?_

Alex turned his head at the last moment, and Forrest’s lips touched his jaw instead. Alex could feel his tongue, the warmth of his kiss, but as they pulled apart, the chill returned to his body.

“I’m sorry,” Alex whispered, shaking his head. “I . . . I . . .”

“It’s all right,” Forrest traced the kiss he’d left on Alex’s jaw, down his neck, and pressed his hand against Alex’s heart. “I will feel all of you, Alex. When, I do not know, but I am certain of it.”

Alex watched with his heart heavier as Forrest turned and made his way to the restroom. His eyes fell to Forrest’s bare backside, and he forced himself to turn around again. As he had already filled the bath, he trusted Forrest could wash himself, but a part of him wished to follow. He thought of running his hands down Forrest’s wet body, of Forrest’s hands on _him_ , touching every part of him.

Alex pressed the bottoms of his palms to his eyes, and exhaled shakily. He thought of Michael, the way that woman had been pressed to his side. Surely – _surely_ – there was another explanation for it. That was what Alex kept telling himself, but the rational part of his mind refused to accept it.

_You’ve always known it was over. It’s terrible, but it’s true._

Alex sat down on the edge of his bed, and he did what he always did when it felt as if the world was too much to bear. He began to sing softly.

His voice was quiet, but as he sang, he felt his mother’s familiar lullaby echo in his body, his chest, his heart.

If she were here, Alex knew she would push back his bangs and smile, amused. _Silly young man, you think too much with your head_ , she would’ve said. _When will you listen to your heart?_

But Alex’s heart felt too broken to speak now. Often times, Alex felt as if it would not beat, let alone guide him. How was he to listen to it?

“Alex,” Forrest said, and Alex looked up to find him standing at the doorframe, not yet cleaned. He was staring at Alex with a most unreadable expression.

Alex’s eyes fell to the space between Forrest’s legs, and instead of looking away, Alex found himself dragging his gaze back up along Forrest’s body to his face. “Forrest, is something wrong?”

“Your voice,” he breathed, his brows furrowed, as if he were going to cry. “It is . . . it is . . .”

“Oh,” Alex said quietly, and scratched the back of his head. “I – I apologize,” he said. “I don’t normally sing for anyone, not even Michael, I –”

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Forrest breathed, and Alex blinked, startled for only a moment before he began to laugh.

“Goodness, you really love everything I do, don’t you?”

“I’m hardly biased,” Forrest said. “Merpeople have the most beautiful voices when they sing. But you . . . are you certain you’re not part siren?”

Alex scoffed, rubbing his face. Only a moment ago, smiling had seemed so impossible. Now, however, it came so easily to him.

“Go on,” he said. “Bathe yourself.”

“Will you not join me?”

“No, I will not,” Alex murmured, turning away only to smile.

They had decided that Forrest would be staying in the guest room, so honestly, as he lay curled under his blanket that night, Alex _should_ really have expected the knock that came at his door after everyone had gone to bed.

Alex heard someone come inside, without the slightest attempt to stay quiet, and when his blanket was suddenly pulled back, he burst into laughter, turning his head into his pillow to muffle the sound.

“You’re meant to stay in _your_ room,” Alex said as Forrest lay down on his right.

“I don’t like being apart from you,” Forrest said plainly, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist, and pulling them close together until their noses brushed.

Alex gasped, no longer laughing, and pulled away. “Don’t do that!” Then he realized he’d spoken too loudly and covered his mouth with his hand.

“Why not?”

“Because . . .” Alex was at a loss. “It’s . . . inappropriate.”

“Why is it inappropriate?”

“ _Because_ ,” Alex winced at his own words. “We’re not . . . together.”

“I’ve already told you,” Forrest said, returning his hand to Alex’s waist. “We _are_ together, for these three days.”

“ _Forrest_ –”

“Two now,” Forrest said more quietly.

Alex said nothing a moment, then he huffed and turned so that his back was to Forrest’s chest. His face burned, but he tugged on Forrest’s wrist until the merman was pressed close against him.

“Say nothing,” Alex murmured, pulling the blanket up to cover them both. Forrest seemed only momentarily startled by the touch of the fabric, but he quickly melted against Alex’s body, his hold on his waist tighter.

Alex covered Forrest’s hand with his own, and as he began to drift off to sleep, he heard Forrest whispering against the nape of his neck.

“I love you, Alex. And I will love you even after the sea parts us.”

Alex swallowed, his hold on Forrest’s hand tightening as he tried not to think of the day after tomorrow, when the sun would set for the last time on the two of them.

The next morning, Alex woke to find himself nose-to-nose with Forrest. His eyes widened, but the thought of moving away came only briefly and went just as quickly. Instead, Alex reached up, his hand hovering just above Forrest’s cheek.

He hesitated for only a moment before he touched the merman’s skin, his heart leaping into his throat with the warmth. Alex inhaled deeply, and caught the scent of the ocean. It was not frightening this time, for he had Forrest here, his arm around Alex’s waist, protecting him.

“Do you plan to watch me while I sleep?”

Alex froze. “You’re awake?”

Forrest grinned, his dark eyes fluttering open, the sunlight peeking through the windows turning the specs to gold.

His lips slowly spread out to a grin. “As, it seems, are you.” He took Alex’s hand and turned into the touch, kissing his palm. Alex’s heart thrashed wildly.

“W-We should get out of bed,” he said, and Forrest shook his head, pulling on Alex’s waist until their chests pressed against one another.

“Please, Forrest –”

He tugged again and before Alex knew it, Forrest was hovering above him, Alex’s legs bracketing the merman’s. Somewhere in the far recesses of his mind, Alex thought that it might be only natural for him to keep his legs together. In the forefront of his brain, however, all Alex could think of was; Forrest’s scent, his warmth, his grin, his eyes, his _body_. His body that was moving ever-closer to Alex’s.

“Please _what_ , Alex?” Forrest breathed, his eyes falling to Alex’s lips as he leaned in closer, closer, _closer_.

“Please . . .” Alex whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as he imagined Forrest’s warm lips against his own. “Kiss me.”

Forrest came closer, his lips brushed Alex’s, and then –

“Breakfast!” Gregory called from somewhere inside, and Alex sat up so abruptly his and Forrest’s foreheads crashed together.

Alex groaned, clutching his head. Forrest laughed as he rubbed his own. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“S-Sorry,” Alex stammered, and called, “Coming!”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed before Forrest could stop him. “I’ll just get ready then.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

“No!”

Alex shut the restroom door behind him and slid down to the ground against it, his hand clutching his chest. His heart did not seem to want to calm itself.

What had he been about to do? What had he _asked_ Forrest to do to him?

“Fool,” he whispered to himself. “What an utter and complete _fool_!”

But why? Why was he so foolish? Forrest had clearly wanted to kiss him as well, and it wasn’t as if there was any reason _not_ to kiss him.

_But there_ is _a reason_ , he thought. _There’s Michael._

“Michael,” Alex repeated to himself. He could not have been certain that Michael had moved on, had chosen another. That woman could have been anyone, an acquaintance, nothing more.

Alex hugged his knees to his chest and buried his face in them, trying very hard to believe those thoughts.

Forrest had seemed unperturbed by the distance Alex put between them since coming out of the restroom. As a matter of fact, he seemed rather _amused_ , as if he thought Alex were playing a sort of _game_ with him.

“What do you plan to do today?” Gregory asked as they took their seats around the table.

“I have work in the shop,” Alex muttered, eyes on his croissants and fruit.

“Take a day off.”

“I’ve already taken several days off. First for the voyage, then for recovering.”

“Take another day,” Isobel insisted. “Liz will understand.”

“I can’t do that!” Alex said indignantly. “I-It’s rude. And besides, we have a big shipment going out next week. She will need my help preparing.”

“I would love to watch my Alex work!” Forrest said eagerly. “I am certain he makes the most _wonderful_ clothes!”

Alex pursed his lips, his face heated as he sunk lower in his seat and jabbed thoughtlessly at his plate. If Isobel and Gregory had noticed Forrest call him _his_ Alex, they made no remark, but Alex could _feel_ them smirking.

“I’m . . . all right.”

“Is Max coming by the shop?” Isobel asked, and Alex looked up.

“Why are you asking?”

Isobel shook her head and shrugged her shoulders in that way she did when she was hiding something and did not want anyone to know.

“Just wondering,” she said.

Alex thought of the woman that had been on Michael’s arm yesterday.

“Are you asking if he’s told me anything?”

Isobel looked startled. Gregory and Forrest ceased eating at once, though Forrest’s plate was already empty.

She visibly swallowed and composed herself, her expression turning to one of cold calm. “What are you saying? Told you about what?”

Alex held her gaze, but the fear that crawled into her expression – as if she worried what would happen if Alex discovered the truth – forced his eyes away.

“Nothing,” he muttered, standing. “Come along, Forrest.”

“Coming, my love.”

“Alex,” Gregory tried, but Isobel was looking down at her plate, her expression unreadable.

“Forrest,” Alex called again, and Forrest gave up on gathering the croissants and took the whole basket at Gregory’s insistence.

He opened the door and found none other than his father standing on the other side, his hand raised in a fist, about to knock.

“Father?” Alex blinked, and Forrest stumbled against him.

“What’s that?” Alex heard Gregory say, and soon his brother was beside him.

“Alex,” his father stared. “Good morning.”

“And to you, father,” Alex said quietly, keeping an arm around Forrest’s waist, hiding him.

“What’re you doing here?” Gregory demanded.

“I was unable to see my son last night,” Jesse said. “I was told to return today.”

“I see Flint’s not with you.” Gregory scoffed. “Does he even know you’re here?”

“Who is this?” Jesse asked, ignoring Gregory’s question. He tilted his head to get a better look at Forrest. “Your new friend?”

Alex kept Forrest closely tucked in behind him, though even the merman seemed unwilling to allow Jesse a clearer look of his face.

“Hardly new,” Alex said. “I’ve known him for ages.”

“Mm.” Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, he’s sure,” Alex answered for Forrest as he was unwilling to speak himself. With the piercing gaze his father was giving them, Alex could hardly blame him.

“I’ve been wanting to speak to you since the voyage,” Jesse said. “I did worry about your wellbeing, Alex. You hadn’t come to see me.”

“My apologies, father,” Alex said. “I – I’ve only been resting, you see.”

“Yes,” Jesse said, his eyes turned to slits as they focused on Forrest’s shoulder. Alex was certain he could not see him properly.

“Is that all then?” Gregory asked stiffly, and Isobel came to rest her hand on his arm.

“I will be taking another voyage soon,” Jesse said, dusting off his sleeve. “Tomorrow, in fact.”

“ _Tomorrow_?” Alex blinked. “Is that not a tad _soon_?”

He seemed eerily calm, so unlike the paranoid man that had hung over Alex’s shoulder on the ship. It unnerved Alex, and judging by the way Forrest held his wrist with a painfully tight grip, Alex knew the merman was bothered with it as well.

“I’m afraid I agree with Alex,” Isobel said, her brows furrowed. “Would you not consider postponing another trip, _especially_ after what happened the last time?”

Jesse raised a brow. “Why, what happened the last time?”

Gregory grit his teeth. “Your son very nearly died.”

Jesse’s eye twitched. “That wasn’t my fault.”

Alex frowned. “No, father, of course it wasn’t.”

“Alex, don’t defend him now.”

“But, Gregory –”

“I take it _you_ won’t be joining me then,” Jesse said with a cold look at Gregory who refused to look away. “And you, Alex? Will you not come?”

Alex huffed an incredulous chuckle. “Back out to sea?” he breathed. “Are you mad? That voyage was the worst of my nightmares come to life. I will never set foot on a ship again!” Alex felt Forrest still against his back, his hands clenched in Alex’s coat.

Alex shook his head. “What reason could you possibly have to go back out again? I already told you, _there are no merpeople!”_

He expected his father to get angry, to scream, but Jesse’s expression turned as distant as it had been on the ship, his eyes holding a familiar remnant of the wild madness that Alex and his brothers knew so well.

“Oh but I’ve found their homeland, you see,” Jesse grinned. “The last time, we had barely just brushed the surface.”

“What on earth are you going on about now?” Gregory said with a roll of his eyes.

“The Blue Pearl,” Jesse said, and Forrest’s grip on Alex’s coat turned so tight it pinched him. Jesse, Alex realized, was looking for a reaction from Forrest. He took a step back, moving Forrest with him.

“The Blue Pearl is said to be the beacon that calls all merpeople to its location. Once I retrieve it, I will know to summon the creatures that killed your mother.”

“Our _mother_ died because she drowned,” Gregory said harshly. “ _Not because of merpeople!_ ”

“So ignorant,” Jesse shook his head, snarling only just as if he was forcing himself to contain it. “But you’ll see.” He glared at Alex as if trying to see through him to Forrest. Alex stood a little straighter. “I will make them pay for what they did.”

He turned and left, and Gregory shut the door behind him.

“Darling, please,” Isobel tried, but Gregory was fuming.

“That paranoid, _destructive_ –”

“Calm yourself, my love,” Isobel said, but it was Alex whose hands were trembling. He felt his eyes burn and a lump form in his throat. Terribly, he thought he might cry.

“Alex,” Isobel said kindly, putting an arm around his shoulder. “Alex, it’s all right. He’s left.”

“Don’t go to work today,” Forrest said quietly, clinging onto his shirt. “Let’s stay here.”

Forrest’s voice, to Alex’s surprise, was trembling as well. Alex realized he may have been just as frightened by what his father had said. Could that mean that there had been some truth to the talk of the Blue Pearl?

Alex inhaled deeply, and raked a hand through his hair. He could not be afraid now, not if he was going to help Forrest feel better. They did not have so much time left, after all.

He mustered the best smile he could and forced a laugh past his lips.

“Why would we do that?” he said light-heartedly. “I thought you _wanted_ to see me work. Or was that a lie?”

“Alex . . .” Gregory stared.

“No,” Forrest said quietly. “I want that very much.” He still seemed to be thinking about what Jesse had said. If Alex was going to understand what was going on, he could not do it hiding here.

Alex took Forrest’s free hand, and kissed his fingers. Forrest looked startled, but his eyes were back in focus, and that was all that mattered to Alex for now.

“Come along, then,” he said, and pulled Forrest out the door behind him. He called over his shoulder at his equally surprised siblings, “We’ll see you both tonight.”

Alex did not want to bother Forrest with questions about his father’s claims, so instead of asking him the moment they’d turned the corner, he decided it would be best to give Forrest his wish and take him to the shop so that he could watch Alex work.

“Why so down?” Alex said cheerfully as he hugged Forrest’s arm. Forrest did not look up.

“Was meeting me truly so horrible?” he asked quietly, and he and Alex came to a slow stop.

“What?”

“The way you spoke,” Forrest said, “of the voyage. You said it was your worst nightmare come to life.”

“Yes,” Alex said. “Well, I _did_ nearly drown.”

“But I saved you,” Forrest said more quietly still, and in the silence that followed, Alex could hear his fears. _It was how we had met. Was there truly_ nothing _good about the voyage?_

Alex took a deep breath and leaned in, kissing Forrest’s cheek. Forrest looked up, eyes wide.

Alex flushed and looked away. “I could hardly tell my father about the _one_ good thing that happened, could I? _Honestly_. And stop grinning at me like that!” he whined.

Forrest almost hugged his shoulders as he followed in his wake. Several men and women smiled at the pair and whispered to their friends, looking as if they had found a kitten and small dog napping with one another. Alex wished the earth would open and take them both.

Along the way, Alex kept hold of Forrest’s hand, squeezing every now and again if only to see a glimmer return to the merman’s eyes. When they arrived at the shop, they found Liz already scolding a nervous Max.

“Cotton,” she nearly shrieked, holding several rolls of fabric. “I wrote _cotton_! What do you call _these_?!”

“They’re – well, they’re wool, aren’t they?”

“Very good, Max, yes, they’re wool,” she said, glaring. “Tell me, how do you confuse wool for cotton?”

“Lord only knows,” Max said apologetically. “I’m terribly, _terribly_ sorry, Liz, really. Although,” he chuckled, “you must confess, it is rather remarkable that I was able to carry this whole lot from the post myself.”

Liz did not look the least bit amused. “Oh? How’re your britches, then?” she said edgily. “Fit properly, do they?”

“All right,” Alex stepped in between them quickly, his hands on his friend’s shoulders to calm her down. “Max, why don’t you – er – help Forrest find a chair while I talk to Liz?”

“Forrest?” Max said, apparently only just realizing that Forrest was there. “You’re still visiting then?”

Forrest nodded. “I am until tomorrow.”

At this, Liz looked to him, her anger all but subsided at once. “So soon? But . . .” she glanced at Alex, “I thought . . .”

Forrest’s smile returned as he understood the implication, his eyes on Alex. “My heart will always belong to Alex, no matter how far away we are from one another. I would not change that even if I could.”

Alex blushed, but at the thought of Forrest leaving, he felt another heavy weight in his chest. He shoved it down. There was no point considering that now. They had more than a day together.

“Forrest,” Alex said, gesturing to the empty space at his side. “Bring your chair here.”

Forrest did as he was told, pressing his chair directly beside Alex’s so that he could lean against Alex’s side, using his other hand to finish the basket of croissants he’d been given. It was a bit difficult working with the merman’s head on his shoulder, his hand on Alex’s thigh, but Alex did not dare move him. He knew Liz and Max were watching him with wide eyes, but he did not care. Something about having Forrest beside him felt personal, secret. It was their world, and no matter who was looking, no one would see what they did.

“That’s an interesting necklace you wear, Forrest,” Max said near the end of the day.

Liz looked up at him from where she was working. “Why are you still here?”

Max looked sheepish, and Alex could only feel sympathy for him. He would not give up his pursuit, he knew, and yet it must have been painful to confess your feelings for another only to never hear their direct response. Alex’s hand on the needle stilled and a sudden thought made his heart stutter.

Was that how Forrest felt? The thought left Alex feeling very cold and unpleasant.

Forrest, however, did not seem to be facing the same internal struggle as he fingered the blue seashell around his neck.

“Thank you,” he said. “It was a gift. From my father.”

Alex stared at it. He had not given the necklace much importance before, but after the conversation with his father, he could not help but wonder if _that_ was the Blue Pearl that summoned the merpeople. Now that Alex remembered, he was certain the other merpeople had not worn such a necklace. Only Forrest had.

He wanted so desperately to ask, but he could not do it here. Not in front of Liz and Max who would not understand and only ask more questions that Forrest would not be able to answer.

Alex clenched his jaw and took Forrest’s hand in his, pulling him to his feet.

“Liz,” he said suddenly. “I wonder if I may have the rest of the afternoon off!”

Liz, startled at his sudden abruptness, could only nod. Alex led Forrest out of the store and down the familiar road, ignoring Forrest’s questions, until they were descending the stone steps and standing on the shore they both knew so well.

“Sit down,” Alex commanded, and he sat. Forrest followed, their knees touching. Forrest’s brows were furrowed, but he was still playing with his necklace. Alex asked, “Are you afraid of my father?”

Forrest straightened his spine, his expression grave. “I only fear what he will do to you.”

“Are you afraid of _me_?”

“What?” Forrest frowned. “Alex, _no_.”

“Do you think I am anything like my father?”

_“No!”_ he demanded, turning to face Alex. “My love, you’re only good!”

“No one is only good, Forrest,” Alex said. “Least of all me.”

Forrest shook his head. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to truly love me,” Alex blurted before he could help himself. “I am so weary of pretending to be what I am not for love. It’s most tiring. I want you to understand that I can be cruel, and I can be unfair, and I can be _cowardly_ , and love me regardless.”

“Alex . . .” Forrest took Alex’s face in his hands and kissed him. It was merely the press of Forrest’s lips against his own, and it was over quickly, but Alex could not forget the warmth, Forrest’s soft lips, his scent, stronger than the ocean before them.

Forrest was not looking at Alex, as if afraid of being scolded for what he’d done. “I love you, Alex. I always will.”

Alex’s eyes burned and he looked away as well. He swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, “Is the Blue Pearl real?”

Forrest said nothing a moment, and Alex feared he had overstepped, but then the merman said, “Yes.”

“Is it your necklace?”

Forrest gave him half a smile. “No. It may or may not be magic, but it is not the Blue Pearl.”

“Will my father be able to use it if he gets his hands on it?”

“I suppose he might just.”

Alex shook his head. “What is it, Forrest?”

Forrest pursed his lips. “The Blue Pearl is a royal symbol of the merpeople. Your father was right, it can be used as a beacon, when it is in distress. Like a king in peril calling for the aid of his knights.”

“In distress?” Alex felt dread rise in his chest. He was never a foolish man in terms of mysteries. In that, he feared, he was all too clever.

Forrest huffed a chuckle, as if he could sense that Alex had arrived at the correct conclusion and was proud of him for it.

“Alex, the Blue Pearl is _me_.”

Alex said nothing for several long minutes, until the sun began to set on their second day over the ocean surface.

“H-How is that possible?”

“It’s a _title_ , nothing more,” Forrest said. “One that passes down from generation to generation.”

“ _Royal_ generations,” Alex noted. “You said _royal_. Forrest, are – are you a prince?”

“Of course not,” Forrest said.

“Oh,” Alex sighed, slightly relieved.

“I’m a king.”

“ _Oh_ ,” he repeated faintly. He was _certain_ that he was going to be ill.

“I don’t care about my title, Alex,” Forrest said hastily. “Don’t you see that? I’d always felt something was missing in my life, and when I met _you_ , I realized what. I’d never known love until I felt it for you.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Forrest, you mustn’t.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I – I know your heart belongs to Michael, that you cannot fathom yourself with anyone but him –”

“Stop,” Alex shook his head. “Please, stop saying his name.”

Forrest frowned. “Alex? What’s wrong?”

He said nothing for a long moment, mustering the strength. “Did you know he asked me if I would be the one to come with him on his future voyages as captain?”

“What did you say?” Forrest asked.

He said nothing a moment, then, “I said I will be. If he can only wait for me. Wait only a short while. I told him there was nothing I wouldn’t do, no wave I would not fight to be at his side. I had hoped he would understand my fear.”

“And what did he say?”

A lump rose in Alex’s throat, and he cleared it away before he answered, “He said I’d disappointed him. He said there was no longer any further use to our relationship if he could not depend on me. I begged him, he didn’t want to hear it, and I left. I kept thinking he would come after me. Then I thought he would write to me. Then, at the end of it all, I thought he would wait for me.”

“But he did not.”

“He did not.” Alex rested his chin on his knees. “He’d been looking for a wife, and I think he may have found one.” He sighed shakily. “That’s the first time I’ve confessed to it out loud.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Not really,” Alex said, drawing in the sand with his finger. “Nor do I feel worse. I feel . . . numb where Michael is concerned. It’s as if I’ve known for years that we were not meant for one another, and am only facing the reality of it now.”

Forrest moved closer to him on the shore. “It’s all right to cry, if it makes you sad.”

Alex looked over Forrest’s shoulder at the water. So much damage done because of those waves. But it _wasn’t_ because of those waves. Not really. It was because he’d tried his mightiest, and had been deemed not enough. He stood. He would not deem himself as such anymore, not while Forrest watched him with such admiration and awe. He could not disappoint Forrest.

“Yesterday,” Alex said, unbuttoning his coat. “You offered to teach me to swim.”

Forrest raised a brow, his lips curving to a wide grin. “That I did. I still do.”

“Then come along, merman,” Alex said. “Teach me.”

Going into the water was not nearly the daunting experience it had been the first time. Alex kept his eyes on Forrest and his feet planted firmly in the sand. Forrest had chosen to discard his shirt completely, giving Alex a clear view of his strong chest, his broad back, his arms, his shoulders, his stomach. Alex got only as far as unbuttoning his shirt completely, but kept it hanging on his shoulders, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“There you are again,” Forrest said once the waves came high enough to reach their shoulders. “You’re staring.”

“I am not!”

Forrest pulled him in against him, snaking an arm under Alex’s shirt and around his waist, their chests pressed together. Alex gasped.

“I can feel your heart racing,” Forrest whispered, and despite the waves around them, Alex heard him as if he were whispering into his ear.

Forrest put both hands up Alex’s shirt, reaching up around his back, scratching at his shoulder blades and coming back down to grip his waist. Alex bit his lower lip to keep a moan from escaping.

“ _Now_ ,” Forrest said quietly. “I want you to let me go.”

Alex stilled and pulled back to find Forrest smiling. He shook his head. “No.”

“You have to,” he said. “Otherwise, you cannot swim if you are holding onto me.”

Alex understood. “Oh. Yes. N-Now?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Forrest smirked.

“I do,” Alex said. “All right. I’ll let you go.”

“All right.”

“Right away.”

“Yes, do.”

“This instant.”

Forrest laughed and nuzzled Alex’s neck. “Darling, I would love for you to cling to me until the end of time, but it would not do much in teaching you, I’m afraid.”

“Yes.” Alex swallowed, a shudder running through his body that did not owe much to the fear as much as it did to Forrest’s lips pressing against his neck.

Slowly, his hands trembling, Alex released Forrest’s shoulders.

“Close your eyes.”

“Forrest –”

“I’m right here, my love,” Forrest promised. “I will not let any harm come to you.”

Alex inhaled deeply and nodded. He closed his eyes and felt one of Forrest’s hands on his back, his other coming down to his leg. “Relax your body,” he instructed, and Alex did his best.

Suddenly, he was being pulled off the ground to float on his back. He began to panic, but Forrest’s lips pressed against his ear. “Remember. I am here.”

Alex repeated that in his head, even when he felt his head rest backwards so that he could no longer hear anything but water, even as he felt Forrest’s hands leave him. His body started to curl on itself, but he kept reminding himself that Forrest was there, watching over him. He was in no danger.

He relaxed his body as best he could, the silence of the ocean terrifying, but – admittedly – a relief. Alex thought of the moment he had swam with Forrest as a merman, the fish that had passed, the creatures that had watched, as if even they were mesmerized by Forrest’s beauty.

And Alex was floating, feeling as if he was flying in the clouds, the sunlight piercing his closed eyes. He felt Forrest take his hand, and he held it back just as tightly. When he opened his eyes, he found the ground too easily. Forrest was grinning widely.

Alex rubbed his eyes and blinked. “D-Did I just swim?”

“You just swam,” Forrest laughed, and Alex did the same.

“I just swam!” Alex screamed gleefully and leapt onto Forrest. The two fell back, and resurfaced, sputtering. “I-I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Forrest said happily, wrapping Alex in his arms and pressing them close to one another. As he held Alex, he brought a hand up to push back his bangs from his eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my love. Did I not say you were the bravest of us all?”

Alex shook his head, lightly touching Forrest’s jaw. “Yes,” he breathed. “You did.”

And he closed the distance between, taking Forrest’s lips in his. Forrest seemed startled only for a moment before he melted against Alex, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He held onto Alex tighter, his hand coming down against Alex’s chest.

Alex’s mouth opened against Forrest’s, a moan escaping his throat before he could stop it. He did not mind. The water was cold, but Forrest’s tongue, his lips, his _body_ was on fire. Alex thought the heat could have killed him, and he would not have cared.

“I want to feel all of you,” Forrest whispered against his lips, his hands falling to grip Alex’s arse. Alex nodded, pressing another kiss to Forrest’s mouth before he took his hand and pulled him towards the shore. It was then that Alex realized someone was standing on the sand, watching them.

Alex’s eyes widened. _“Michael?”_

Alex felt Forrest still beside him, his hand gripping Alex’s tighter. When he spoke, he sounded quieter and more nervous than Alex had ever heard him. “That – That’s Michael?”

Michael stood on the shore, his blond curls wild in the wind, his expression unreadable as his eyes followed Alex.

Alex cleared his throat, held onto Forrest’s hand, and pulled him along. When they reached the shore, Forrest let Alex go to find his shirt and coat. Alex began buttoning his own shirt, aware that Michael was staring at him.

“You were in the water,” Michael said. His voice should have sent a ripple of pleasure down Alex’s spine, but he had already been touched by Forrest. It surprised him to hear Michael speak now, and think only of a man’s voice, not the voice of his lover.

“It’s not so frightening anymore.”

“I didn’t really think you’d be here,” Michael said.

“Were you looking for me?”

Michael nodded. “I went to the shop first. Then the bakery. No one seemed eager to give me any news of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said quietly. “I would not let them speak ill of you, but –”

“No, they are protective of you,” Michael said, giving him a small smile. “I’m oddly proud.”

Alex glanced at Forrest. The merman was giving them their privacy, though Alex saw him button his shirt incorrectly and have to start all over. He had the strange urge to smile.

Michael seemed to notice. “Friend of yours?”

Alex pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes, he is. From Paris.”

“From Paris?” Michael frowned. “I didn’t know you were writing to a friend in Paris.”

“No, but you did know that I had gone on a voyage, did you not?” Alex said, and looked up to find Michael’s expression unreadable. “I almost died.” Michael said nothing. Alex shook his head. “Do you even care?”

_“Alex,”_ he breathed, as if he could not believe Alex could think so poorly of him. “Of course I _care_.”

“Then where were you?” Alex asked. “Why did you not come?”

Michael stepped closer and Alex involuntarily stepped back. Hurt flashed in Michael’s expression and his fingers curled to fists at his sides.

“I _wanted_ to,” Michael said. “I could think of nothing else but seeing you. When I was told you had returned, I wanted to run to your side. However, I . . .”

“Were far too busy with your bride-to-be?” Alex asked, and gave half a smile when Michael’s eyes widened.

“How did you know about that?”

Alex sighed, folding his hands behind his back and balancing himself on his heels. “So it’s true. She’s very pretty.”

Michael’s eyes fell shut as realization dawned. “Who told you? Max or Isobel?”

“Does that matter?” Alex asked. “So long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you.”

“That cannot be true,” Michael said, as if he _hoped_ it was not true. “Alex, I only left you because I wanted you to conquer your fear.”

“No,” Alex said softly. “You left me because you could not tolerate my cowardice. Had you stood by me, had you believed in me, had you only _waited_ ,” he whispered. “Perhaps our story would not have ended.”

“But why must it end?” Michael took Alex’s hands in his, and in an instant, Forrest was at his side, looking _angrier_ than Alex could have ever imagined him being.

Michael glared back as he spoke to Alex. “You’re not afraid of the water anymore. I need not marry someone I do not love. You need not be without me. We can be together again!”

Alex wanted to cry. He had waited so long for these words, but now, as he heard them, he could not think of anything but Forrest’s warmth against him, Forrest’s hand on his lower back, Forrest’s scent of the ocean.

He took his hands from Michael’s, and crossed to his coat lying on the shore. Out of one of the pockets, he pulled out the painting of Michael’s ship that he had taken to carrying around with him everywhere. The painting that had saved his life more than once.

“When I was drowning,” Alex said, “I called for you. But you weren’t there. You never are.” He handed Michael the painting. “I wanted to belong to you. But I do not. Michael, I – I truly hope you feel ever-lasting love and happiness. If I had one wish, it would be that.”

Alex slung his coat around his shoulders, reached for Forrest’s hand, and as soon as the merman’s fingers closed around his, they left.

They received a number of stares from passerby, but Alex could not think of them as he gripped Forrest’s hand tighter.

“Are you all right?” Forrest asked.

Alex said nothing as they rounded a corner and reached the bakery.

“Alex,” Isobel came rushing out of the kitchens when Alex and Forrest entered. “We just saw – did you speak to –”

But Alex never heard the rest of her question as he crossed the bakery to the small door and closed it behind them.

Forrest let Alex take him up the spiral staircase, into the flat, the long corridor, and into his bedroom.

Alex shut the door and pushed Forrest onto his bed, climbing over him. He kissed him into the pillows. Forrest was ready, his hands on Alex’s waist, pulling the rest of his body down. Alex spread his own legs to fit Forrest in between.

“I never want to see you look so angry,” Alex whispered, and took Forrest’s lips in his again, and again, and _again_. “I want to see your smile as I’ve come to know it.”

“Alex,” Forrest breathed, already unbuttoning Alex’s shirt, running his hands down Alex’s chest, his stomach. He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist and turned them over. “Let me touch you,” he whispered.

“Then touch me,” Alex said, ignoring the buttons and tearing Forrest’s shirt open instead. Forrest kissed Alex hungrily, pressing his chest against Alex’s, grinding their hips together. Alex was only briefly surprised that Forrest knew how to do this, but he did not question it. He could not risk stopping Forrest from kissing his jaw, his neck, down his chest.

He licked Alex’s nipples as his hands pushed the shirt off Alex’s shoulders.

“My beauty,” Forrest whispered against his stomach, his hand scratching down Alex’s chest. “I could not help but be angry,” he muttered against the soft skin, his other fingers reaching into Alex’s trousers. “You are mine. I will not give you away before our time is finished.”

Alex’s heart thrashed as Forrest’s fingers grazed his cock. He buried his hands in Forrest’s hair. “Do not speak of that now. Kiss me, Forrest. I want to feel you.”

“My love,” Forrest groaned and sat up, pushing down his own trousers until his erection sprung free. He seemed comfortable keeping his trousers around his knees, keeping them pressed together.

Alex’s mouth watered, and he pulled Forrest down to kiss. He thought he could faint with the taste of Forrest’s tongue against his own. He wanted to feel this man’s touch forever, to be this close to him always, to taste him, to hold him, to be held by him.

He saw stars when he came, and felt Forrest’s light and wet kisses against his jaw and neck, Forrest’s damp body against his own, Forrest’s heavy breathing in his ears, Forrest’s softened cock, making him half-hard again in an instant.

It wasn’t until hours later that they finished, lying side by side in bed, naked and facing and one another. The sky outside the window had turned dark, and Forrest was sleepily running a hand up and down Alex’s stomach, following the trail of hair leading down.

“My beautiful,” Forrest whispered before taking Alex’s lips in a long, lazy kiss. “Thank you. That was better than I ever could have imagined.”

“Did you know . . .” Alex traced Forrest’s bottom lip with his fingers. “My nightmares don’t bother me when you’re here.” He swallowed, his smile dimming. “I don’t want you to go.”

It was a secret, a promise spoken between them only, a gift meant for Forrest and Forrest alone.

Forrest’s own smile wavered to something fragile as he held Alex’s fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Alex knew this was the last night they would have together. He leaned in, pressing his forehead to Forrest’s chest and wrapping his arms around Forrest’s waist, hugging him tightly. “I love you, Forrest.”

Alex heard Forrest inhale sharply, but he could not regret the words. They were the truth. Forrest embraced him tightly, and Alex felt tears against his hair. He closed his eyes and held on.

“And I love you, Alex.”

It was in the middle of the night when Alex woke to an incessant _tap tap tap._

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Forrest’s arm lay around his wrist, the merman sleeping soundly. Alex leaned in and softly kissed his cheek, then his shoulder. Forrest stirred, clinging tighter to Alex and mumbling against his hip. Alex smiled.

_Tap tap tap._

Alex looked around, and realized the noise was coming from his window. He carefully stepped out of bed without waking Forrest, and pulled the curtain back to find none other than his father standing outside, throwing pebbles.

“Father?” he muttered, and looked to Forrest. He knew Jesse would not stop attempting to get his attention. Alex straightened his shoulders. He did not have much time with Forrest left, and they could not be bothered being hunted. He would put an end to this now.

As quietly as he could, Alex dressed himself, threw a coat over his shoulders, and made his way downstairs.

“You cannot bother us anymore,” he demanded the moment he opened the doors to the bakery. “This has gotten to be foolish and _obsessive_ , father. I was willing to be lenient after mother’s passing, but this has surpassed grief.”

Jesse stared at him, his hands folded behind his back, his eyes narrowed. “Good evening, my son. Did you sleep well?”

Alex’s shoulders fell. “Please, father. Go home. What happened was painful for all of us, but we must learn to move on now.”

“Move on,” he repeated, and it seemed his gaze focused on something over Alex’s shoulder a moment before he said, “You haven’t the faintest idea what happened, Alex. How much it took from me.”

“It took from all of us!” Alex cried. “She was our _mother!”_

“And my wife,” Jesse said. “You cannot understand. Your friend, however, just may.”

Alex thought of Forrest asleep in bed, safe and warm, and rage rose in his chest. “What’re you talking about?”

He grinned then, and it’s as if it shattered his entire expression. It was wild, mad, _dangerous_.

“The Blue Pearl,” he said, and Alex’s heart nearly stopped. “I have studied the merpeople for years, Alex. I can spot one _anywhere,_ especially one as valuable as him. And he will not come to me of his own volition.”

“Stop it,” Alex spat.

“Once he is in the water, he will be too powerful.” Jesse scoffed. “In his weakened state, I can still use him.”

Alex’s eyes burned. He growled, “I will not let you near him.”

“I will not have to be,” his father said, bringing his hands out from behind his back. Alex realized he was carrying what looked like a soaked rag in one hand. “You see, once he realizes _you_ are in danger, he will come to me.”

“Danger?” Alex barely managed to say before several men came running from around the bakery. Before Alex could utter a word, they grabbed his arms and waist, and his father pushed the rag against his nose. Alex struggled for only a few, short seconds before darkness overcame him.

When Alex next opened his eyes, he saw several things at once. The first was that it had turned to day, the sun low in the sky. He was on a ship, several strangers surrounding him. Flint was arguing loudly with his father, gesturing animatedly at Alex. Alex was tied to a mast, the ropes around his wrists painfully tight and pinching his skin. And there were men gathered at the second mast. Alex could not see what it was that they were staring at.

He tugged and turned, but he was still without his strength and the ropes only seemed to pull tighter.

“Captain,” one of the men said to Jesse. “He’s awake.”

“Good,” Jesse said with a glare at Flint. “I’ll need him with his wits about him.”

“This is mad,” Flint shook his head. “I’m cutting him free.”

“YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING!” Jesse commanded, and the sound rung like a siren across the deck. They rocked back and forth and for a moment, it seemed that no one but the waves dared speak.

“He serves a purpose,” Jesse said. “They both do. They are the _only_ way to capturing the merpeople that killed your mother!”

“Mother _drowned_ , father,” Flint said desperately, his expression grieved at the sight of his father like this. “ _Please_ , Alex is your son, it’s not too late to stop this!”

Before Jesse could respond, one of the other crew members screamed. “He bit me!”

The men around the second mast moved, and Alex’s eyes widened.

“No,” Alex breathed. “No, please.”

There, tied up just like Alex, was Forrest. He looked as bruised and beaten as Alex felt, but when his dark eyes fell on Alex, he seemed to sigh with something like relief.

“Alex!” he called. “Are you all right?”

Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “No! I promised you! I promised you he would not touch you!”

Forrest chuckled sadly. “My love, my _beautiful_ love, I was left a note that you were taken to the shore. I came running, and you know I struggle to run.”

“Why?” he cried. “You fool, you should have stayed at the bakery where you would be safe! You had to have known it was a trap! WHY WOULD YOU COME?!”

But Forrest only smiled, even as tears fell down his cheeks. Jesse crouched beside him, and pulled on his hair. “He came because he loves you, Alex. Is that not right, merman?”

Alex thrashed in his bindings. They were cutting into his skin, but he did not care. “DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!”

“Father, let them go!” Flint demanded. “THIS INSTANT!”

“He knows,” Jesse went on as if neither of them had said anything at all. “He knows how it feels to lose a love to death. Once that fear strikes you, there is nothing you will not do.”

Forrest glared, his jaw clenched. “And what you did – is that considered to be love? To your sons? Your _wife_?”

Jesse’s eyes turned wild. “ _Silence_!” he hissed, his hand around Forrest’s throat.

“LET HIM GO, FATHER!”

Flint frowned. “To mother? Father, what is he talking about?”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Forrest choked as Jesse continued to strangle him, but he would not be silent. “I kept it secret to spare you. I wanted you to keep _one_ of your parents. But this one is not worth keeping.”

“I TOLD YOU TO BE QUIET!” Jesse screamed, and several men had to come forward and pull him off of Forrest.

“It will not work if he dies on the ship,” one of them reminded him.

“Forrest!” Alex cried. “Are you all right?!”

“Alex,” Forrest coughed. “Your mother – I knew her. She was kind and beautiful, much like you. She knew of my kind, she wanted to _protect_ us! But your father would not listen!”

“STOP TALKING!”

Forrest would not stop. “He believed we were to be hunted. He trapped me in a net, and attempted to kill me with a spear. Your mother jumped into the water to save me. She thought he would stop at the risk of hurting her. He did not.”

“STOP IT!”

“That’s a lie,” Flint breathed, his eyes wide. “That – that cannot be true. Father, tell him it’s not true!”

Alex, however, could not speak. He and Forrest stared at each other. Alex’s tears dried as he thought of the years that followed.

“Clay,” Alex muttered, but the sound seemed to carry across deck. “Clay was with you that day. He will not return our letters. This is why. He could not bear the truth of what had happened.”

Alex turned his glare on his father. “That our father _murdered_ our mother!”

“NO!” Flint shouted. “It cannot be true! Tell them, father, _tell them!”_

Jesse had gone limp in his men’s hold. He shook his head. “It was an accident,” he whispered. “The – The merpeople made me do it! They tricked your mother into believing in them! In their so-called goodness! And they let her die!”

“She was mortally wounded,” Forrest said, his voice hoarse. “There was nothing any of us could do for her. And look at you now, her husband, driven _mad_ by the guilt.”

“This was how you recognized Forrest,” Alex said. “You’d known him from before!”

“I am _enlightened_ ,” Jesse said, and when his men realized he was not going to kill Forrest, they released him. “I loved my wife, more than you could ever imagine. I would never have harmed her. _You_ , on the other hand,” he stomped on Forrest’s leg and Forrest screamed.

“NO!” Alex thrashed again. He was certain he would lose his hands to these blasted ropes, but he did not care. Not when the man he loved was across from him, in pain. Alex felt a nail in the floorboards, and frantically pulled at it until it was free.

Flint slid to the floor, his eyes wide. Forrest was grinning. “There is _nothing_ you can do to me. I have faced far more frightening creatures than _you_.”

“Yes,” Jesse panted. “ _Yes_. There is nothing I can do to _you_.” He came to Alex’s side. “But that is what Alex is here for.”

Jesse grabbed a fistful of Alex’s hair and slammed his head back against the mast. Forrest screamed, “NO, DON’T YOU TOUCH HIM!” and the waves grew wild.

Jesse scoffed. “Incapable of doing more, aren’t you? Us humans may not be as strong as your kind, but we have our advantages.”

He wrapped his hand around Alex’s neck and began to suffocate him. Alex’s hand on the nail stuttered.

“STOP IT, PLEASE STOP IT!” Forrest screamed, attempting to free himself to no avail. “DON’T HARM HIM!”

“You see,” Jesse said. “ _Love_ can be your greatest strength, but it can also be your greatest weakness. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“He’s your son!” Forrest growled. “Your _child,_ how can you DO THIS TO HIM, YOU MONSTER?!”

“I do it because I have to,” Jesse said quietly, staring at Alex as if trying to remember his name. “I do it for love.”

“You know _nothing_ of love,” Forrest hissed, tears streaking his face. “LET HIM GO!”

“Do keep distressing,” Jesse said calmly. Alex clenched his jaw and worked at the rope tying his hands. It had to work. He simply _had_ to be set free. “It will make it all the easier to summon your people.”

Forrest trembled violently against his ropes as the minutes passed. The sun was setting over the ocean’s surface, the sky turned to gold and pink and violet.

_“No,”_ Alex cried as his father attempted to suffocate him. Their final sunset. He never even questioned whether or not Forrest would need to be in the water by then, if the transformation would exhaust him. He was clearly exhausted now. Too much to lift his own head.

“Sunset,” Jesse said, and Alex attempted to cut the ropes faster, his fingers now coated in his own blood.

Jesse released Alex and gestured at Forrest. “Release him from the mast.”

Alex was confused only until Jesse’s crew members pulled him up, and he realized Forrest could no longer stand, his head hanging forward. They tied his wrists together and wrapped the rope around his waist. Then they tied an anchor to his legs.

Alex scratched himself with the nail as he sat up straighter. “What’re you doing to him?”

“If my calculations are correct,” Jesse murmured as if _he_ were the one exhausted. “The transformation should be soon. But if he dies underwater as a human, that will act as enough of a beacon to summon every one of his people.”

Alex’s heart stopped in his chest. “You’re going to drown him?” He dropped the nail, thrashing wildly. “NO, YOU CAN’T DO THAT! LET HIM GO, PLEASE, FATHER, I’M BEGGING YOU, _LET HIM GO!”_

“It will be an ironic death,” Jesse said, and his lips tugged upward in a sickening smirk. “Exactly the kind he deserves. Throw him.”

Alex screamed “NO!” just as Flint suddenly shouted and attacked their father, pushing him to the deck. Alex pulled and _pulled_ until the rope he’d been cutting broke free and he was released. He ran, avoiding the crew members and, with only the thought of saving Forrest, he leapt off the edge of the ship and into the water. Forrest was far, _far_ below, but Alex kicked his legs as hard and fast as they would allow, the world around them turned to silence.

_“Come along, Alex. I will protect you.”_

_“Hold on tight to me.”_

_“I will wait for you for forever.”_

Alex’s hands closed around the ropes that bound Forrest. He pulled Forrest up to him, but his eyes were closed. Panic settled in Alex’s chest, but he pushed it aside as he worked on undoing the knots. He could not manage it. He attempted to pull the merman up, but the anchor was nearly dragging Alex down as well. And still, he would not release Forrest.

Alex held Forrest’s face in his hands. _Wake up,_ he thought desperately. _You’re a merman, you can’t die underwater!_

Alex pressed his mouth to Forrest’s, breathing into him every last breath in his lungs. _Wake up,_ he silently wished, his head falling onto Forrest’s shoulder as he held him tightly. _Our three days have yet to finish. We have seconds left. You cannot leave my side yet._

Then Alex saw a light behind his eyelids. He opened his eyes slowly to see Forrest engulfed in a golden dust.

Alex’s eyes widened as deep blue and gold scales grew along Forrest’s neck, his forearms, and around his stomach. The ropes and anchor fell away as Forrest’s legs merged together and formed a large blue and gold fin. Strands of his hair turned to a deep blue, and when he opened his eyes, Alex saw that they were a mixture of dark blue, gold, and dark brown.

Alex wanted to laugh, his heart filled with so much relief as Forrest swam before him that he felt he could sob. But he had been underwater too long, his air gone, and his vision was beginning to turn hazy. Forrest seemed to notice instantly, wrapping an arm around Alex’s waist and holding him closely. He raised his other hand, and a swam of bubbles appeared around them. Alex could breathe again.

“You’re alive,” he cried. “You’re really alive.”

“Alex,” Forrest shook his head. “You . . . leapt in after me?”

“Of course I did,” he said. “I love you, Forrest. I love you most terribly and foolishly.”

Forrest huffed a laugh and pulled Alex in against him, kissing him again and again. His seashell necklace pressed against Alex’s chest, but Alex held on tighter as Forrest deepened the kiss.

“Er – should we just go then?” they heard and looked around to find, not an army of merpeople, but the friends that Alex had seen when he’d met Forrest first. Maria, Jenna, Kyle, and an unfamiliar mermaid.

The beacon must not have been so strong, Alex realized, because he’d managed to wake Forrest.

“My friends,” Forrest smiled. He kept an arm around Alex’s waist. “You remember Alex.”

“The handsome one,” Kyle said fondly and reached out to touch him. Forrest moved to float in front of him.

“Are you _joking?!”_

“What?! I’m only saying hello!”

“Did everyone forget that we were only just _summoned?”_ Jenna demanded, agitated.

“Not that we shouldn’t talk later, Alex,” Maria said with a wink.

“Does anyone want to tell _us_ what’s going on?” the strange mermaid asked, her arms crossed, her fins and scales the color of purple and gold.

“Yes, Charlie, in fact,” Forrest pointed up. “ _That_ , I’m afraid, is our problem.”

And as he told them what had happened, Alex tightened his hold on Forrest, unable to help but feel ashamed. He was certain the merpeople would blame him for endangering their king. Instead, Maria came forward, and slapped Forrest’s head.

“So it’s _your_ fault Alex was abused then?!” she sighed. “ _Honestly_ , Forrest, I _said_ you would only get him into trouble if you went to him!”

“You mustn’t blame Forrest!” Alex said, realized everyone was staring at him, and looked down. Even underwater, his cheeks were warm. “I – I’m eternally grateful to have met him. These days with him have been the best of my life.”

Forrest cupped Alex’s jaw, and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. It went on for several seconds before Jenna groaned. “NO! Not _now!_ We have business to conclude! We will have to sink this ship.”

“No!” Alex said. “Please, I know what my father has done is unforgivable, but . . .” he shook his head. “And regardless, my brother is on board.”

“He’s right,” Forrest said, and Alex was so grateful that he understood what he could not say that he wanted desperately to kiss him again. “But we cannot allow this madman to continue haunting our waters.”

“Help me return him to shore,” Alex said, “and I will take care of him. I give you my word, he will never bother you again.”

Forrest looked to his friends, his familiar smile already spreading across his lips. “Well, that’s quite good enough for me.”

He waved a hand at his friends, and as if understanding his silent plan, they all spread around until they were surrounding the ship.

“We will have to do something regarding the men,” Forrest said, and threw an arm upward. Several jets of water suddenly flew and broke the surface. Forrest’s friends created waves to violently rock the ship. Alex could not see what was happening, but he heard several screams. Forrest assured him, however, that his brother was to remain untouched.

It was several long minutes before the waters stilled. Alex, who had been holding on tightly to Forrest, relaxed his grip only slightly when everything turned silent.

“I suppose it’ll be time to return to the deck,” Alex said.

Forrest nuzzled Alex’s neck. “We will lead your ship to shore,” he murmured. Alex nodded.

“You will not be able to follow me to land, will you?”

Forrest shook his head. “No.”

What followed felt like something of a dream, as if Alex had watched the events play out before him rather than participate in any of it himself. He had been raised to the ship’s deck to find Flint shivering on his side, both he and Jesse were bruised and beaten, and everyone but his brother was knocked unconscious. Alex had taken him to one of the lower chambers and let him rest.

The ship had returned to shore, and Alex and Flint had gone to the bakery to find a frantic Gregory and Isobel. They had found the letter their father had left for Forrest. Gregory pulled them both into a hug, and they told their brother and sister everything they knew about their mother’s death. Gregory cried for hours. Flint, Alex realized, would not confess what he had seen of the merpeople.

When he had been tended to in the spare room, Gregory and Isobel turned to Alex. They had not inquired after Forrest, but instead had ruffled his hair, embraced him tightly, and said, “Let us simply say he has returned to Paris.”

Alex could not ask whether that meant they had known all along of Forrest’s true nature. He could do nothing more than cry into the night, his family holding him tightly.

Alex could not sleep. He went to the shore that night, and then the next morning. He kept expecting to see Forrest, but the merman never came. More than once, Alex went into the waters and swam around for hours, hoping he would get a sign of his love, but he did not.

Alex supposed that, as Forrest was king, there was plenty for him to do after taking a vacation to the human world. He wondered when and if he would ever see him again. The thought broke his heart beyond repair.

But he would not disappoint Forrest, not after having grown so much stronger. He went to work and made dresses and suits, and had dinner with his family and friends. He even visited his father in the asylum. Jesse Manes had grown silent after weeks, but he was no longer mumbling about merpeople, so Alex kept hope.

Flint took to designing ships rather than sailing them, Rosa was helping more in the shop as Liz and Alex were being overwhelmed with orders, Liz was finally allowing Max to come in every day and watch her (“What, no flowers?” she demanded one day when he had asked her to a theater performance. “How do you expect to win any woman’s hand without flowers?!”), and the bakery remained the safest and happiest place in all of Saint-Suliac.

And Alex _wanted_ to be happy. Truly, he did, but every time he laughed it felt as if he was losing air, every night he cried himself to sleep, and while he was no longer haunted by ocean waves (no, those had become quite a treasured reminder), it was dark eyes that followed him and kept sleep at bay.

“I’m going down to the shore,” Alex said one morning. While such a declaration might have raised alarm a few weeks ago, they were now regarded with an encouraging smile.

“Enjoy yourself,” Isobel called.

“Don’t be late, I’m making dinner tonight!” Gregory said.

Alex took the familiar road, the ocean breeze playing with his hair and coat. He kept his hands in his pockets, but it was not so cold.

“Good morning, Alex!”

“Good morning, Mr. Higgins!”

“Alex,” Mrs. Valenti called excitedly. “Where’s Forrest? I do miss seeing him!”

Alex felt a painful stab in his heart, but he smiled. “Returned to Paris, I’m afraid.”

Alex took the uneven steps down to the shore, and sat down on the sand. He inhaled the familiar ocean scent and rubbed his eyes furiously. The waves crashed softly on the shore, as if attempting to heal Alex’s heart with their music, the seagulls flew overhead, the breeze was cold here but still pleasant.

Alex pulled his knees up to his chest and buried his face between them, listening to the waters, pretending he was not alone.

It felt as if an eternity had gone by before he felt someone sit down beside him.

“Beautiful view.”

Alex’s heart stuttered. He did not dare look up, but he was _certain_ he knew that voice.

“Of course, the ocean is not entirely unpleasant to watch either.”

Alex turned. There, sitting with that same wide, fond smile, was Forrest in his human form.

Alex stared, his eyes wide. He felt tears fall down his cheeks. He did not dare hope.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispered.

Forrest looked amused. “I don’t think so. I believe I am quite real. Oh, here. I made this for you.” He held Alex’s hand, and slipped a bracelet onto his wrist. It was made of small, pale blue stones that Alex believed he had gathered from the ocean. He felt real.

“I was right,” Forrest whispered, and held Alex’s hand against his own jaw. “You look magnificent in aquamarine.”

Alex cried and threw himself onto Forrest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pushing him back onto the sand. Forrest laughed as Alex kissed his forehead, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, and desperately kissed his lips.

“I thought I would never see you again,” Alex whispered, a tear falling down his nose and off the tip.

Forrest held his face and brushed back the tears with his thumbs. He pulled Alex in for another kiss. “I had to figure out a way to return to you, and not have to leave again.”

“Are you only here for three days?”

“No, Alex,” he laughed, his own eyes filling with tears. “No, I – I worked tirelessly over the past few days. It might’ve driven me mad, but I thought of you, and I kept fighting.”

Alex shook his head. “Fighting for what?”

“Building my strengths. My magic. All to endure more than three days as a human. Then we discovered the true value of my necklace,” Forrest said, and held up the blue seashell that hung around his neck. “All this time, I believed it was a simple gift from my father, but the stories were true! Once I discovered love, I was granted one wish. Only one. And I chose you.”

Alex’s brows furrowed. “Y-You will be human forever?”

Forrest shook his head, and kissed Alex again. “I am still a merman by blood, but I can change at will now. There will be no exhaustion, no time limits. I may not be human, but I am _yours_ forever, if you will have me.”

Alex kissed Forrest in lieu of a response. He kissed him again, and again, and _again_. He could not stop, and he did not want to. Forrest’s arms wrapped around his waist, and he wrapped his own arms around Forrest’s shoulders, pressing every inch of his body to the merman’s.

They spent the sunset like this, with no one but the waves to witness. Alex was glad for it, for the ocean was, now and forever, a part of him.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://pastelwitchling.tumblr.com/)


End file.
